s 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."

The companions continued the rest of the way in silence. When they
reached home, and returned the horses to the stable, they proceeded
down the path to Roughgrove's house to report their adventure.

Glenn and Mary, William and La-u-na, were seated under the spreading
elm-tree, engaged in some felicitous conference, that produced a most
pleasing animation in their features.