Skinny knew that his only chance lay in prompt action; that when the snake began to move, it would not release itself and crawl away. It would bite him and he would die in an hour. That was what Uncle Jeb Rushmore had said, about an hour "_more ner less_." Well, he was too wrought up to lie there waiting for death; he must do something. The thought occurred to him that if he had a jack-knife, he could stab the snake. But you see he had no jack-knife, he had nothing that scouts have. So he resolved to shout. Perhaps Danville was alive and would hear him. And perhaps his voice would not arouse the drowsy reptile to bite him. If it did and Danville came, then Danville would know what had happened. He believed that if Danville had not been stifled to death, he would be emerging into consciousness by now. By rolling over just a little bit he might be able to look down into the opening he had made. He had not directly made that opening; that is, he had not worked it all out with his stick. He thought he must have dislodged a stone that had fallen into the cave, and thus broken the root-bound earth. Suppose he looked down into that dark inferno--suppose there was light there. Something, he knew not what, had caught fire there. And suppose the rock he had dislodged had fallen on Danville lying prostrate and overcome.... Skinny had too much imagination. Well, he must not imagine things now, but act. He made up his mind what he would do. He would shout. That, of course, would agitate his body and probably arouse his torpid foe to deadly action. If that occurred he would quickly wrench his tattered shirt off, pull it around his skinny little leg, and tie it in a knot. Then he would reach for a stick which he saw, slip it under the encircling shirt and turn it, drawing the shirt tighter and tighter around his wounded limb just above the point of the deadly bite. He thought that the bite would be just about where the head was, on the front of his leg just above the knee. He had the stick all picked out. Suddenly the wild thought came to him of reaching down and grabbing the serpent by the neck. But he was so placed with relation to it that he could not apply the necessary strength. Shouting was best, at least as a first recourse. So he shouted. CHAPTER XXVII SKINNY'S HERO Danville Bently was not fifty feet distant from Skinny. He was bending over the boy he had rescued and was just recovering from his consternation at finding him a stranger when he heard the shouting. It was rather odd that Skinny's frantic call caused this prostrate boy to open his eyes, by which Danville knew that he still lived. He closed them again, as if he had been disturbed in slumber.