"Tight! By gum! The pressure of that six foot o' collar on my neck tilted my chin up in the air, while the chap above my waist nearly broke my ribs. The worst of it wer' I was freezing." "Freezing! and the sun at 108." "That's so; but fright turns a chap cold, and them snakes were drawing all the remainin' warmth outer me. And ther' were those sharks promenadin' roun' and roun' the tree, every now and again givin' it a lazy shove. Jes' then the tide turned, and the tree began to move on another cruise. This time I knew it would be all up with me. I couldn't live through another fight with the surf, and if I moved there was the snakes and the sharks. Soon as the tree moved those snakes woke up and began hissing an' puffing an' swaying their heads about, while their eyes got bright and brighter. Suddenly the collar chap crept up over my face and took a twist round my head with the end of his tail in my ear; then one by one the other snakes crawled up over my face, each one of 'em giving me such a look as threatened my life in case I moved. I wondered what they were about, for I couldn't see, but the pressure on my neck was terrible, when, after the last one had gone, I heard a hiss, a whizz, and a thud. What jer think?" "I suppose they flew away." "They jest piled on top of each other, tail round the other's neck, till they made a column that would reach the bank; then the topmost one bent forward, and there was a line of snakes from the tree to the bank. A big puff-adder was at the far end, and he hitched his fangs over a tree stump. Right there I spotted my chance. I softly hauled on the line, and drew the tree ashore, when I jumped to the ground and cut." "And where did you find the otter?" "Picked him up, sonny. And to think that I lost my line." "That's a wonderful story, Uncle." "Eh! but it's so. You can see yourself I'm soaked through and through, and if you look out, there's the river in flood plain enough, and here's the otter which will make a good weskitt." CHAPTER THIRTEEN. THE BLACK TIGER AGAIN. Abe suffered for several days from an attack of rheumatism in his shoulder, brought on by his immersion in the flood waters, and he applied himself steadily to the manufacture of a wonderful lotion, in which camphorated oil was the main stock, with a dash of turpentine, a strong trace of eucalyptus, and a few drops of the powerful euphorbia juice, together with extracts from sundry potent herbs. When I visited him this concoction was brewing in a pot, the steam from which filled the house with an extremely pungent smell. "There," said he, holding up a wooden ladle full of the mixture, "jes' take a sniff of that. That's the sort to sift right through you, and yank out rheumatics from the knuckle joints." "It certainly is strong." "Yes, sonny; but it lacks one thing." "What's that?" "Jes' a lump, as big as your fist, of fat from a tiger's inside." "Is that so?"