ward leap the youth made would have done credit to a skilled acrobat.
"That must be a boa constrictor!" cried Striker, who had been the first to lead the way into the water.
"I wonder if he can swim?" queried another of the sailors. "If he can, we aren't safe here."
"Of course he can swim," answered Grandon. "I tried my best to hit him, but I guess I didn't make it. Cal, why don't you go at him?"
The last words had scarcely left the mate's mouth when the boatswain opened fire with the shotgun, aiming directly at the upraised head of the snake, that had paused on the rim of the sea, as if undecided whether or not to undertake an aquatic pursuit. Vincent was very nervous, and the shot, instead of hitting its object, scattered on the sands a yard away.
"Missed!" grunted Hobson. "Reckon, Cal, you couldn't hit the broad side of a house with a Gatling gun."
"He is moving away, anyhow," returned Vincent, as the great snake turned and slowly glided towards the brush behind the hut.
"Give him another shot!" cried Striker, "Load
