CHAPTER XII
A NATIVE BATTLE
"Bless my!" but that was as far as poor Mr. Damon could get. The breath was fairly squeezed out of him by the folds of the great serpent that had dropped down out of the tree to crush him to death. His head fell forward on his breast, and his arms were pinioned to his sides.
"Quick, Ned!" cried Tom. "We must fire together! Be careful not to hit Mr. Damon!"
"That's right. I'll take the snake on one side, Tom, and you on the other!"
"No! Then we might hit each other. Come on my side. Aim for the head, and throw in the highest charge. We want to kill, not stun!"
"Right!" gasped Ned, as he ran forward at his chum's side.
San Pedro, and the other natives, could do nothing. In the gathering twilight, broken by the light of several campfires, they stood helpless watching the two plucky youths advance to do
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