Favored by the log over which, as will be remembered, he had just passed, and by still being in perfect range with the Indian, Kingman rose upon one knee and grasped his stick with both hands. It was a dangerous movement, and he durst not turn to see whether the savage had noticed it. But it must be done, and he could not remove his gaze from the snake, whose head now rose and drew back several inches, and whose eye glittered with tenfold brightness at his own threatened danger. He now rattled for the last time, and drew his neck back like a bent bow, when the stick of Kingman flashed through the air so rapidly as to be invisible, and struck the reptile just at the junction of the head and neck. Any other snake would have dodged the blow, quick as it was; but this species, besides being sluggish, is easily killed with a slight wound. As it was, the force with which Kingman struck was so great, and the blow so well aimed, that, incredible as it may seem, the head was stricken clean from the body. Kingman heard it snap, and, as the trunk spurted its hot blood on him, saw something spin like a ball through the air, and fall several yards away. A glance showed him the head writhing among the leaves, and the mouth gaping to its utmost extent. The instant the head of the rattlesnake was severed from his trunk, the body doubled in a knot, and then whirled with lightning-like gyrations in his horrible agony. Fortunately for Kingman it took another direction, and still writhing and twisting, it shot off among the trees. The greatest immediate danger was now rid of, and Kingman betook himself again to escaping from the Indian. When he fully realized the imminent peril from which he had been delivered, a sort of desperate reaction came over him, and he grew reckless and careless. He turned and made the rest of his retreat on his feet, stooping very low and moving quite rapidly. He was, however, unobserved, and reached another small ravine, for which he had so earnestly wished. Down this he bounded, and ran for the river. “It is the opinion of this gentleman that he has gotten into about enough trouble from leaving broad trails for the Shawnees, and he proposes another plan.” With this, our hero stepped into the water and again commenced swimming. He did not strike for the channel, for this would have been certain destruction, but continued close along shore. Heavy branches of trees and huge bushes overhung the water for fifteen or twenty feet from the shore and afforded an almost impenetrable protection for him. Beneath these he gently swam, and was half carried by the current, catching at the leaves and twigs within his reach.