TIME'S FINGER 289 



of red rock, was the predicted bush with keen prickles 

 thick-set on limber branches. Half amused, I climbed 

 to the spot, and, clinging precariously to the principal 

 stem, cut off a branch which, falling into the ravine, 

 slipped several yards down the smooth floor. It was 

 not worth recovering, but a certain half-humorous 

 sense of obedience to the black boy's cautions induced 

 me to return for it; and as I trimmed off some of the 

 prickles that it might be grasped comfortably, a stone 

 clattered down, bouncing on the rock almost at my feet. 



A substantial mystery ! What invisible agency had 

 given this hard fact its force ? A gleeful chuckle 

 followed by a discordant crow dissipated doubt the 

 stone had been dislodged by an industrious scrub fowl 

 raking on the brink of the ravine. A sense of fellow- 

 ship with the harsh-voiced bird manifested itself. A 

 transient sensation of relief I had not been conscious 

 of the least mental depression followed the thought 

 that in and about the ravine there were other living 

 things besides myself and snakes. The death adder, 

 the head of which I had fatally bruised just now, had 

 been the only sign of life, and it had been as dull- 

 coloured and almost as inert as the rock on which it 

 lay an emblem of death at home in this almost life- 

 less seclusion. Dwelling with amusement on Wylo's 

 suggested precautions, I bore the branch before me as 

 I climbed a steep face, the tomahawk in my belt, intent 

 for the time being, and as cautious and suspicious as 

 a black boy. On the lip of what seemed to be a hollow 

 a fig- tree grew, the naked, interlacing roots of which 

 made the final stages of the ascent easy and safe. 

 Briskly hauling myself up, I stepped over the edge of 

 the depression, and the solid rock lapsed and slid under- 

 foot. 



In a flash the head of a python arose, and with gaping 



