"The hog?" exclaimed Walter, in surprise.
"Yes," Charley affirmed. "If you want to clear a patch of ground of snakes, just turn in a drove of hogs, they will do the work for you in short order. They kill and eat the most poisonous snakes without the slightest hurt to themselves. Either their thick hide saves them, or else they are immune from the venom."
"No more Florida pork on my bill-of-fare," declared Walter in disgust.
Pain and excitement had driven all thought of sleep from both boys' minds and they sat close together by the fire and talked the night away.
As the slow minutes slipped away, Walter watched his chum's face in an agony of apprehension for any sign that the subtle venom was getting in its deadly work. But the hours passed by and, although Charley was suffering considerable pain, there was no indication that any of the poison had passed into his system—the lad's prompt act had saved his life.
Dawn came at last and found two weary waiting boys, one of them weak, pale, and haggard.
As soon as it was light enough to see, Walter made his way back to the edge of the forest, and cut a strong forked limb to serve as a crutch for his chum.
Before leaving the fire, the boys cooked and ate a couple more venison steaks which gave them fresh strength and courage.
Walter shouldered the guns and venison and staggered on in the lead under his heavy load, while Charley hobbled painfully on behind.
They had just crossed the remainder of the prairie and were resting a bit before plunging into the forest on the other side, when Chris and the captain broke out from the clump of trees and hailed them with shouts of joy.