“Oh, Sneak,” cried Joe, in tones somewhat tremulous, “do, for goodness’ sake, let us go away from here!” “I sha’n’t do any such thing—what’d you hit me on the head for?” “I thought I was a killing a snake,” replied Joe. “Do I look like a snake?” continued Sneak, turning round, when for the first time he discovered the condition of his companion’s bridle. “Sneak, let’s ride away!” said Joe. “And leave all them black sarpents yander poking out their tongues at us? I won’t go till I wear out this pole on ’em. Ha! ha! ha! I thought you hadn’t spunk enough to gallup through ’em on your own accord,” said Sneak, looking at the pony, and knowing that he would follow the steed always, if left to his own inclination. “Come, Sneak, let’s go home!” continued Joe, in a supplicating tone. “Come! let’s charge on the snakes agin!” said Sneak, raising the rod, and fixing his feet in the stirrups. “Hang me if I go there again!” said Joe, throwing down his rod. “You’re a tarnation coward, that’s what you are! But you can’t help yourself,” replied Sneak. “I’ll jump off and run!” said Joe, preparing to leap to the ground. “You jest do now, and you’ll have forty sarpents wrapped round you in less than no time.” At that moment two or three racers swept between them with their heads elevated as high as Joe’s knees, and entered the area. “Oh goodness!” cried Joe, drawing up his legs. “Git down and git your pole,” said Sneak. “I wouldn’t do it if it was made of gold!” “If you say you’ll fight the snakes, I’ll git it for you—I’m a going to stay here till they’re all killed,” continued Sneak. “Give it to me, then—I’ll smash their brains out the next time!” said Joe, with desperate determination. “But you musn’t hit me agin!” said Sneak, dismounting and handing up the weapon to Joe, and then leaping on the steed again. “Sneak, you’re no better than a snake, to bring me into such a scrape as this!” said Joe, leaning forward and scanning the black mass of serpents at the pool. In a few minutes they whipped forward, Sneak in advance, and again they were passing through the army of snakes. This time Joe did good service. He massacred one of the coiled rattlesnakes at a blow, and his pony kicked a puffing viper to atoms. Sneak paused a moment at the pool, and dealt his blows with such rapidity that nearly all the black racers that survived glided swiftly into the tall grass, and one of the largest was seen by Joe to run up the trunk of a solitary blasted tree that stood near the pool, and enter a round hole about ten feet from the ground. But if the serpents were mostly dispersed from the area around the pool, they were by no means all destroyed; and when the equestrians were again in the tall grass, they found them whizzing furiously about the hoofs of their horses. Once or twice Sneak’s horse sprang suddenly forward in pain, being stung on the ham or shoulder by the tails of the racers as they flew past with almost inconceivable rapidity.