akeship when I poked him
back into his prison. The last I had seen of him he was wriggling on
the floor, stirring himself up in the most lively manner. But the
reptile immediately proved that I had not killed him by darting out
into the room as lively as he had done the same thing before. I did not
believe it was possible for him to get out through the opening by which
I had escaped from my prison; but I was not quite willing to wait to
test the question. The villain could crawl like most other snakes with
which I was familiar, but he also had a talent for leaping. I
considered it wise and prudent to begin my retreat without any delay.

I took a last look at the snake. He had retreated to the corner of the
room opposite the closet-door and coiled himself up, with his head in
the centre. He kept his eyes fixed on me, or I fancied he did. He
looked as ugly as sin itself. He seemed to me to be as near like
Captain Boomsby as one pin is like another. They both did business on
the same principle. Mentally I bade him an affectionate adieu. So far
as I was concerned, he seemed to have none of the serpent's power of
fascination, for I had not the slightest inclination to continue gazing
at him after I had gratified my curiosity. I descended the upper flight
of stairs. The doors of the rooms on this floor were all open, and I
saw that the two rear chambers were furnished as bedrooms.

I went into one of these rooms, and seated myself in a chair. Mrs.
Boomsby was on the floor below, standing at the head of the stairs,
calling for her husband. It has taken me a long time to record the
incidents of my escape so far, and my reflections upon them; but when I
looked at my watch I found that only eight minutes had elapsed since I
consulted it before, at half past five. Probably it was not five
minutes from the time I first saw the snake till I was seated in the
chair in the room below. The lady of the house had not, therefore,
stood a great while in her present position. Her husband had had time
enough to come up-stairs since he was first called, but he probably had
a customer in the saloon.

As I sat in the chair, I suddenly began to wonder whether snakes had a
talent for coming down-stairs. The idea was just a little bit
appalling, for I had no desire to meet his snakeship again. Neither the
stairs nor the halls were carpeted. If he came down in the usual way, I
should be likely to hear him tumbling down the steps. But I rejected