"It's gone under the rock!" panted Fred. He was so agitated he could scarcely speak.
"I know it," returned Sam. "I wonder if it means to crawl up here?"
"Oh, don't say that, Sam. I--I--can't we hit it with something?"
"I haven't a thing but the bag of paper."
"Neither have I. Oh, what shall we do?"
"Perhaps, we had better stay here until the others come up."
"Do you think the snake will keep quiet that long?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
Very much disturbed, the two boys peered over the edge of the rock. They were not versed in the different species of reptiles, and knew not but that the one at hand might be poisonous.
"I see his tail!" cried Fred with a shiver.
"He is moving around as if getting ready to come out."
"I wonder if I can grab him by the tail?" mused Sam.
"Grab him? Oh Sam!"
"I've heard you can catch them by the tail, snap them, and make their heads fly right off."
"Gracious, I wouldn't attempt it!"
While Fred was speaking the tail of the snake came up on the side of the rock. Setting his teeth, Sam bent down and made a reach for the slippery thing, and caught it tight.
With a hiss the snake raised its head, its diamond-like eyes shining like twin stars.
"You'll be poisoned!" shrieked Fred, when whack! Sam gave the body of the reptile a swing and brought the head down with great force on the edge of the rock.
One blow was enough, for the head was mashed flat. Then Sam threw the body into the bushes, there to quiver and twist for several hours to come, although life was extinct.
Fred was as white as a sheet as he leaped to the ground. "I couldn't have done that for a million dollars!" he declared.
"What a splendid nerve you have, Sam."
"My father told me how to catch a snake in that way," exclaimed Sam. "But hurry, or the hounds will overtake us. I can hear them coming."
"Your father must have been equally brave, then," answered Fred, as they started off on, a run. "By the way, have you heard anything of him yet?"
"Not a word, Fred."
"Don't it make you feel bad at times?"
"Does it, Fred! Why, some nights I can't go to sleep for thinking of where he may be--dead in the heart of Africa, or perhaps a captive of some savage tribe."
"Have they ever hunted for him?"
"Several have gone out, but no traces are to be had. Dick, Tom, and I are in to hunt for him, though, as soon as our Uncle Randolph will permit it."
"That's an idea. But you may have to go right into the jungles for him."
"I don't care if we have to go to the top of the North Pole, if only we find him," answered Sam with quiet determination.
Inside of half an hour the bottom of the mountain was gained, and then they struck out along a road which presently took them within sight of the Stanhope homestead.
"I wonder if we have time to call on Dora?" mused Fred. "It would be a scheme to leave our paper trail right through their garden."
"Glorious!" burst from Sam, caught by the idea. "I am certain Dora Stanhope will appreciate the sport."
It did not take them long to reach the garden around the farmhouse; and, running up the path, they ascended a side porch.
As they did so two forms appeared around the house. One was Mrs.
Stanhope, wearing a shawl over her shoulders and a bonnet on her head, and the second was Josiah Crabtree!
"Old Crabtree!" murmured Sam, and then of a sudden he pulled Fred out of sight behind some lattice-work inclosing one end of the porch.
"We must hurry, my dear, or we may be too late," Josiah Crabtree was saying; and now the boys noted that he was conducting the lady toward a carriage standing by the horse block.
"I--I--had we not better wait until next week, Josiah?"
questioned Mrs. Stanhope timidly. She was a pale, delicate woman of forty, of a shrinking nature, easily led by others.
"No, my dear, there is no use in waiting."
"But Dora--?"
"You must not mind what your daughter says, my dear. When we are married she will easily become reconciled to the change, mark my words."
"Gracious, old Crabtree is going to marry her!" whispered Sam.
"Poor Dora!"
"She wants me to wait," continued the lady.
"And you ought to wait, mother," came in Dora's voice; and now she too came into sight, but without a hat or wraps.
"Mr. Crabtree wishes very much to have the ceremony performed this afternoon, Dora dear."
"If he wants to marry you, why can't he do it openly--at home or in our church?"
"He is averse to any display."
"It seems to me it is a very sneaking way to do," answered Dora coldly. "When you and papa were married the wedding was well attended, so I have been told."
"Your father and myself are different persons, Miss Dora,"