ORCHID-HUNTING 153 



huckleberry-bush, when he noted under its lee a 

 rattlesnake in coil, about the size of a peck measure 

 — as pretty a death-trap as was ever set in the 

 woods. By the time I got there, Jim had pinned the 

 hissing heart-shaped head down with his forked 

 stick, while the bloated, five-foot body was thrash- 

 ing through the air in circles, the rattles whirring 

 incessantly. 



"Grab him just back of the stick," panted Jim, 

 bearing down with all his weight, "and put him in 

 the bag." 



I paused. 



"You're not scared, are you?" he inquired; while 

 Tin, who had hurried up with a gunny-sack, regarded 

 me reproachfully. 



"Certainly not," I assured him indignantly, "but 

 I don't want to be selfish. Let Tin do it. " 



"No," said Jim firmly, "you 're company. Tin can 

 pick up rattlesnakes any day." 



"Well, how about my friend?" I rejoined weakly. 



The Ornithologist, who had been watching the 

 scene from the far background, spoke up for him- 

 self. 



"I would n 't touch that damn snake, " he said earn- 

 estly, "for eleven million dollars." 



At this profanity the rattlesnake started another 

 paroxysm of struggling, while his rattle sounded 

 like an alarm-clock. When he stopped to rest, the 

 Ornithologist raised his price to an even billion — 

 in gold. It was evident that I was the white man's 

 hope. It would never do to let two members of a 



