“I don’t want to see more than I have to-day!” said Joe, whipping past the steed as they started homewards, having mended his bridle. But as he paced along by the decayed tree mentioned above, he saw the glistening eyes of the large racer peering from the hole it had entered, and he gave it a smart blow on the head with his rod and spurred forward. The next moment, when Sneak came up, the enraged serpent sprang down upon him, and in a twinkling wound himself tightly round his neck! Sneak’s eyes started out of his head, and being nearly strangled he soon fell to the earth. Joe looked on in amazement, but was too much frightened to assist him. And Sneak, unable to ask his aid, only turned his large eyes imploringly towards him, while in silence he vainly strove to tear away the serpent with his fingers. He thrust one hand in his pocket for his knife, but it had been left behind! He then held out his hand to Joe, and in this dumb and piteous manner begged him to lend him his knife. Joe drew it from his pocket, but could not brace his nerves sufficiently to venture within the suffocating man’s reach. At length he bethought him of his pole, and opening the blade thrust it in the end of it and cautiously handed it to Sneak. Sneak immediately ran the sharp steel through the many folds of the snake, and it fell to the ground in a dozen pieces! The poor man’s strength then completely failed him, and he rolled over on his back in breathless exhaustion. Joe rendered all the assistance in his power, and his companion soon revived. “Dod rot your skin!” exclaimed Sneak, getting up and seizing Joe by the collar. “Hang it, it wasn’t _me_! it was the _snake!_” said Joe, extricating his neck from his companion’s grasp. “What’d you _hit_ the sarpent for?” “Why, I wanted to kill him.” “Then why didn’t you help me to get it away from my neck?” “You didn’t _ask_ me,” said Joe, with something like ingenuousness, though with a most provoking application. “I couldn’t speak! The tarnation thing was squeezing my neck so tight I couldn’t say a word. But I _looked_ at you, and you might ’ave understood me. Never mind, you’ll git a snake hold of you some of these days.” “I’ll keep a sharp look out after this,” said Joe. “But Sneak, I’ll swear now you were not born to be hung.” “You be dod rot!” replied Sneak, leaping on the steed, and turning towards the river. “I would have cut him off myself, Sneak,” said Joe, musing on the odd affair as they rode briskly along, “if I hadn’t been afraid of cutting your throat. I knew you wasn’t born to be hung.” “Ha! ha! ha! that was the tightest place that ever I was in,” said Sneak, regaining his good humour, and diverted at the strange occurrence. “Didn’t he bite you?” asked Joe. “No, a black snake can’t bite—they havn’t got any fangs. If it had been a rattlesnake or a viper, I’d been a gone chicken. I don’t think I’ll ever leave my knife behind again, even if I wasn’t to go ten steps from home. Dod—my neck’s very sore.”