CHAPTER XVI.

THE SNAKE BITE.

"What can we do, Thad?" exclaimed Giraffe, as with the others he hurried over in the direction of Step Hen's voice.

Step Hen had not kept exactly with his mates; had he done so the trouble that was now upon him might not have happened. Encouraged by his success of the preceding day, when he had secured a fine deer just because he hung upon the flank of the advancing party, Step Hen had wandered far afield again, though careful, after a fashion, never to lose sight of the rest.

It was easy to understand, under the circumstances, how the ambitious Nimrod kept his eyes about him, looking for a possible deer to jump up and bound away. He had not been thinking of snakes at all, when so recklessly jumping over the dead tree; and this is always a more or less dangerous thing to do in a country where poisonous snakes may be found.

They came upon the frightened Step Hen. He was down on one knee, and with hands that trembled so he could hardly work, was trying to roll up one of his trousers' legs, after having kicked off his canvas legging.

Thad was instantly at his side.

"Let me do that for you, Step Hen," he exclaimed, as he dropped his gun, and applied himself to the task, to cry out a few seconds later, "I don't see any marks where his fangs went in. Where was it he struck you? Oh! that red spot? Wait a minute."

Thad, to the astonishment of the injured lad, whipped out a small magnifying glass, with which he was in the habit of examining beetles, and all sorts of things of a like nature, in whose habits he, as an amateur naturalist, chanced to be interested.

This he applied to the red mark, examining the same closely.

"I can see two sets of little punctures, one above and one below," he announced presently.

"That's them!" exclaimed Step Hen. "Oh! he jumped right at me, and bit me, all right! I was that scared I could hardly move. I hate snakes, you know, the worst kind. Thad, tell me, did anybody ever get bit by a rattler, and live? My goodness! will you have to cut my leg off, to save me? Oh! I think I'd rather die right now, than have to hop around on one leg all my life. Do something for me, Thad; what are you grinning at, Giraffe? This is a mighty serious matter, I tell you."

"Keep still!" said Thad, sternly.

Then he got down, and sucked at the tiny wounds with all his might, having first made sure that he had no cut, or abrasion of the skin about his lips, or the interior of his mouth. Having expectorated freely Thad got up again. Step Hen followed his every movement with a troubled look on his face.

"Think you got all the old poison out, Thad? Oh! let somebody else have a try, won't you? Can't afford to take any chances about this. Think what an awful blow it'd be to my folks if I skipped off right here and now. Ketch me a jumpin' over a log again without first lookin'. Where's my gun? Did anybody see my gun? Goodness knows where it went. I bet that snake went and carried--oh! thank you, Allan, there's the little dandy, all right. But Thad, don't it look like my leg's beginning to swell? I just seem to feel it twitching all the time. Is that the poison going through my system? Oh! I just knew some day a measly old snake'd get me. How I hate 'em."

"Keep still!" commanded the scoutmaster, sternly.

"Oh! all right, Thad. I'm sure you'll do the right thing by me; but it's just awful to know you've been bitten by a rattlesnake."

"In the first place, I don't believe it _was_ a rattlesnake!" said Thad, positively.

"But it was an _awful_ big, wicked looking snake, Thad; and if you'd seen the way it jumped at me----" began Step Hen.

"That's one of the reasons I had for saying what I did," Thad went on, "a rattlesnake never attacks any one, or any enemy. It always throws itself into a coil, and with head erect, and tail rattling a warning 'don't tread on me,' waits to be attacked. This rule has no exception. A rattlesnake is almost helpless out of coil, and the very first thing he does is to curl up. He may lunge so hard at something as to throw himself half way out of coil; but as quick as a flash he's back again, for he's afraid something will get him."

"Oh! is that so, Thad?" exclaimed Step Hen, still keeping one anxious eye on his bare leg, as though he half expected to see it begin to puff up visibly before his very eyes.

"Was this snake coiled when you first saw it?" demanded Thad.

"N--no."

"What was it doing then, Step Hen?"

"I reckon it was crawlin' along--yes, I know it was, because I remember how I got a fierce jolt when I was just going over the log, to see it with its old head raised, and showing its teeth."

"And then it jumped at you?" Thad continued.

"And tried to wrap around me, after it bit me through my legging; but I guess I kicked some, because it dropped off, and ran away."

Thad smiled.

"I'm sure now it was not a rattler," he said. "No doubt it may have been a big black snake. They're as fierce as they make them, and can whip a sluggish rattler every time, but they're not poisonous at all, Step Hen."

"Oh! I hope then it was a black snake!" exclaimed the other scout, with a sigh.

"Another thing," said Thad, wishing to make it conclusive, so Step Hen might not keep on worrying about the affair. "A black snake bites, but as a general rule a rattlesnake opens his jaws until they stand almost perpendicular, so that he can lay bare his poison fangs. He sinks these two hollow teeth into his enemy, with a furious blow, and at the same time injects the poison. There is no known _sure_ remedy for a rattlesnake's poison. But this snake tried to bite you. There are the faint marks of teeth belonging to both the upper and the lower jaw. It's all right, Step Hen; you're in no danger. The poison would have begun to work before now, if it was there."

"But you won't take any chances, will you, Thad?" asked the other.

"I didn't. I sucked just as hard as if I thought you were going to swell up, and have your heart affected," said Thad.

"But to make sure, Thad, suppose you paint my leg with some of that purple stuff you carry with you," pleaded Step Hen.

"Oh! you mean that solution of permanganate of potash," replied the other.

"Yes, that's the stuff."

"But," objected Thad, "it's meant for scratches from the claws of carnivorous animals, so as to neutralize the virus that is apt to get in the blood, and give blood poisoning."

"Well, here's some poison it can get in its little work on," Step Hen insisted.

"But it will hurt like sixty."

"Let her hurt. The more the better; because then I know it'll be doing its work. Come, let's have it, Thad."

Knowing how persistent Step Hen could be when he wanted to, the scoutmaster felt that he must comply with his request. It could do no harm, and at least would make the boy feel easier in his mind.

"Gee! don't it darken things up some," Step Hen declared, a little later, when the application had been made.

"It stains a whole lot," admitted Thad.

"Huh! I've got one thing to be thankful for anyhow," Step Hen remarked.

"Lots of 'em, my boy," laughed Thad. "But what do you mean in particular?"

"I'm glad he pinched me on the leg," the other went on, whimsically. "Think if he'd jumped up and dented my nose, and you had to paint it like that! My stars! mebbe I wouldn't be a sight though."

"You'd sure never a been able to go back to Cranford," declared Giraffe, who had been an interested observer of all that went on. "Because they'd all say you'd taken to drink."

"Huh! nothing funny about that, because I've been drinking all my life," the other answered back.

"Does it hurt?" asked Thad.

"Well, I guess, yes," replied Step Hen, making a grimace; "but then, I want it to just gouge me. Go it, you little gripper; hope you counteract every drop of poison. That's it, hit me up again. Whew! that's going some."

"Now there are two of us," remarked Giraffe, as he vied with Step Hen in seeing which could limp the most. "It's your right leg, and my left one; so we've still got a decent pair between us."

"But they ain't mates, by a long shot," declared Step Hen.

Joking in this way they followed after Thad and Allan. But as the morning was nearly done it was decided to make camp long enough to have a bite.

Again they talked of Bumpus and his affairs, as they sat around the fire, and ate.

Step Hen hoped that the fat scout would not have the misfortune to run across a "fighting snake," such as the one that had thrown him into such a panic.

"Because, you see," he went on, "not knowing any better, the poor feller would think it was a rattler, instead of just a plain, every day black snake. And it w'd give him no end of worry, because he couldn't suck the wound himself, being no contortionist like Davy Jones; and he wouldn't have Thad and his little potash bottle handy."

"Yes, that's so," remarked Giraffe, "there are some people who don't know the difference between a poisonous rattler, with its square head, and a long twisting black snake."

Step Hen turned a little red in the face, and laughed; but did not venture to take up Giraffe's dare, so that for once an argument that might have waxed fierce was avoided.

Presently they were moving on again. Acting on the suggestion of Thad the four scouts had formed a sort of fan formation, being within easy seeing and hearing distance of each other, but covering quite a wide stretch of ground.

Allan and Thad had given it as their opinion, although they admitted they could not be absolutely sure, that although they must certainly have covered fully thirty miles in their wanderings, they were not more than ten from the camp by the rapids.

It fell to Giraffe to make a discovery this time. Along about two o'clock he raised his voice and gave an excited call. This being the signal to assemble, the other scouts hurried toward Giraffe, anxious to learn what he had to communicate.