up and let me do the trick. Tom, where's your rifle?"
"I—I let it fall," answered the mate of the Columbia, sheepishly. "There it is near the fireplace."
"Better go in and get it," went on the Yankee sailor, facetiously.
"Well—I—I'll wait a bit. I don't want to be bit or hugged to death. Give him a dose of shot, if you can hit him."
By this time the shotgun was loaded again, and now Striker took it. The great snake had reached the bushes and was lying with its head concealed, but the lower half of its shiny body exposed. Taking careful aim, the Yankee sailor fired, and an instant later the reptile was seen to turn and twist in every direction, slashing the bushes as with a flail. It had been struck fairly, but the shot was by no means a fatal one. It remained in view fully half a minute, then crawled further into the brush, where they heard it continue its thrashing.
"There, I don't think he'll bother us much more," remarked Striker, as he handed the shotgun back to Vincent. "Tom, you can get your rifle now, if you want it."
