"Ay, ay," said Nick, "they say it is an ill wind that blows no one good; and the hurricane we had an hour or two ago, is, I suppose, a case in point. Any way, it was obliging enough to blow down a big tree, which fell upon the goat there, and finished her outright. She's a trifle old and tough, I expect; but she'll make first-rate mulligatawney soup nevertheless; and there will be her two kids, as tender as spring lamb, into the bargain. It makes one's mouth water to think of them. And, then, there's those medlars--but, hallo! I say, Ernest, what is the matter? Why, you look as pale and weak as if you were just recovering from a typhus fever. What's befallen you?" "I have had a very narrow escape from a most terrible death, Nick," returned Warley, gravely, "and my nerves haven't got over it." "Hallo! what?" again exclaimed Gilbert. "Escape from death, do you say? Why, what has happened?" "Just go in there--into that hut to the right, and you'll see," was the answer. Lavie and Wilmore had by this time learned the main outline of what had occurred, from the Hottentot, and they all went into the cottage to examine the remains of the great snake. "A proper brute, that," observed Gilbert, as they stood by the side of the reptile, which had by this time ceased to wriggle. "That is the biggest snake I ever came across. There's his head gone, and a bit of his tail; but I don't think what remains can be less than twenty feet. Lion, old fellow," he continued, caressing the dog while Frank patted his head, "you did that well, and shall have a first-chop supper." "We can ascertain its length exactly," said Lavie; "I have got a yard measure here; and here too is the remainder of the tail. Stretch the body straight out, Frank, and I'll soon tell you the measurement." The serpent was accordingly measured, and was found to be some inches more than nineteen feet long. "What kind of snake is it?" asked Frank, when this point had been determined. "A python, or boa-constrictor, no doubt," answered the surgeon; "they give them other names in these parts, but that is the creature. No other description of serpents that I ever heard of attempts to crush up its prey by muscular pressure." "But serpents which do that are seldom or never venomous, are they?" inquired Wilmore. "I believe not," answered Lavie, "but that point has been disputed. Omatoko calls the reptile an `ondara,' and insists upon it that its bite is not only poisonous, but causes certain death. It may be so. It is evident that it would have bitten Ernest if it could; and serpents that are devoid of venom do not often bite. Well, I suppose now that we have done measuring the snake, we may throw him away. The Hottentots, I believe, eat their flesh. But I conclude none of us have any great inclination to make our dinner off him." "No, thank you, sir," said Frank, "not for me."