Part 3 (2/2)

”Let me shoot it, Walt,” pleaded Charley, anxiously, ”they're awfully dangerous.”

”Aye, lad,” seconded the captain, who, with Chris, had reached the spot, ”better let him shoot it, those things are too dangerous to take chances with.”

But Walter's obstinacy was roused. ”Keep back, I'll fix him,” he declared confidently. ”I'm going to have that skin and that $25.00.”

Breaking off a dead bough from a scrub oak he approached the snake cautiously while the rest sat in their saddles silently anxious, and Charley edged his restive pony a little closer to the repulsive reptile.

Slowly Walter moved forward, his gaze fixed intently upon the slowly waving head before him with its glistening little diamond eyes. Nearer and nearer he crept till only a few feet separated him from that venomous head with its malignant unwinking eyes.

”Strike, boy, strike, you're getting too close,” shouted the captain.

”Oh, golly,” shrieked Chris, ”look at him, look at him.”

Walter had stopped as though frozen in his tracks. His face had gone deathly pale, and great drops of sweat stood on his forehead. The hand that held the stick unclasped, and it rattled unheeded to the ground.

”He's charmed,” cried the captain.

”Jump to one side, Walt, jump,” Charley shouted, ”for G.o.d's sake, jump.

It's going to strike.”

CHAPTER IV.

A LESSON.

The reptile's swaying head had drawn back and the huge snake launched itself forward from its coils straight for the dazed lad only a few feet in front of it.

Quick as was its spring, Charley was quicker. He dug his spur cruelly into his little pony's flank. With a neigh of pain the animal leaped forward. For a moment there was a tangle of striking hoofs and wriggling coils of the foiled reptile, while Charley leaning over in his saddle struck with the b.u.t.t-end of his riding whip at the writhing coils. Though it seemed an eternity to the helpless watchers it was really only a few seconds ere the pony sprang away from its loathsome enemy and Charley with difficulty reined him in a few paces away. The snake with a broken neck lay lifeless on the ground, while Walter, sobbing dryly, had sunk into the arms of the captain, who had flung himself from his horse with surprising agility for a man of his age.

With a glance at the group, Charley dismounted, and petting and soothing his trembling horse, ran his keen eyes over the animal's legs and flanks. From the little pony's left foreleg trickled a tiny stream of scarlet.

”Bring up the packhorse, quick, Chris,” he commanded, with a break in his usually steady voice.

Quickly he removed pack, saddle and bridle from his mount. Rapidly as he worked, he had only just removed the bridle when the pony sank to its knees, struggled for a moment to rise, then sank slowly to the ground, where it lay looking up at its master with dumb appealing eyes.

Something welled up in Charley's throat. He flung himself on the ground beside his pony and put his arms around its neck.

”Good-bye, Billy,” he whispered. ”We haven't known each other long but I've got mighty fond of you, Billy, and when the time came you didn't fail me. You acted like a gentleman, old man.”

Poor Billy's legs kicked restlessly to and fro as the tremors went through him.

With a mist in his eyes, Charley arose and looked down on the faithful animal. The wounded leg had already swollen to twice its natural size, the body was twitching with spasms, and the large brown eyes were eloquent with pain and suffering.

”I've got to do it, Billy. It's to save you torture, old fellow, just to save you useless suffering, Billy.” He drew his pistol from his belt, took careful aim just behind the pony's ear, and, turning his head away, pulled the trigger.

With never a backward glance at the still form, he strode over to the pack pony and removing the pack transferred his own saddle to the animal.

The pack was quickly broken up into smaller packages and distributed equally amongst the party, and soon all were moving forward again on their westerly course.

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