s delivered around the sides of the hole
were at their height the doctor fired again, his shot being followed by
a rush on the part of the serpent, which flung itself out of the
excavation, scattering its enemies in different directions as they made
for shelter from the startling assault.

"Fire again, doctor! Fire again!" cried Mark, from half way up the
wall.

"I want a chance first," was the reply, from the top of the heap that
the men had formed. "He's making for the other side of the enclosure.
Well, I suppose I must follow him up."

"Take care," said Sir James, who as it happened had made for where a
couple of rifles were leaning against the wall. "Let me come with you."

"And me," cried Dean, who possessed himself of the other piece.

"Yes, but where do I come in?" said Mark. "Here, Buck, run to camp and
get another rifle."

"No, no," said Sir James. "Three of us are too many. Here, what does
the dwarf mean?" For the little fellow, who was making his way along
the crumbling top of the wall, suddenly stopped short and mutely
answered Sir James's question by pointing with his spear to where the
bushes were thickest. "We shan't be able to see it there," continued
Sir James.

As if the pigmy understood his words, he dropped down quickly, joined
the doctor, gave him an intelligent glance with his piercing dark eyes,
and then, spear in hand, made his way through the bushes to the other
side of the clump in which, the wounded serpent had sought for shelter.

"You had better leave it to me to finish the work," said the doctor,
following the little black.

"Yes," said Mark. "Too many cooks spoil the broth."

"Snake soup," said Dean, laughing; "and I don't know that I want to go."

"I do," cried Mark. "Here, hand over that rifle."

"Shan't. I want to defend myself. Get behind me, if you are afraid."

"You wait," cried Mark sharply.

"Quiet, there!" cried Sir James. "No one but the doctor is to fire. I
don't want the beater to be injured amongst those thick bushes."

There was a few moments' silence, for the faint rustling that had been
made by the reptile in its retreat through the thick growth had now
entirely ceased.

"It's all over," cried Buck.

"Not it, messmate," said Dan. "Them things arn't got nine tails, but
they've got nine lives. Even if you cut 'em up you have to kill each
piece, and then it won't die till after the sun goes down."

"Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu!" cried the pigmy, from w