The Wit of the Wild 



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glanced back to see the girl pointing in terror 

 to where, just ahead, a great copperhead lay 

 festooned in rich golden undulations along the 

 topmost rim of the pile of roots. The eyes 

 that are really red, but looked black above the 

 cream-white lips that hid his fangs but dis- 

 played the forked flame of his tongue were 

 fixed upon me, and slow, wave-like wrinklings 

 crept along his thick, burnished, heavily scaled 

 sides, which were flattened and met in a ridge 

 upon the spine like a slated roof. 



I stared back at him. Barefooted, weapon- 

 less and balancing myself upon that smooth 

 bridge, I had no means of fighting, yet was re- 

 solved not to let the venomous thing escape. 



As I gazed the serpent, with no winding mo- 

 tion whatever such as we use in coiling a rope, 

 but slowly, by the contraction of every part at 

 once, drew himself into a heap, part coil, part 

 folds ; and there he lay a gorgeous pyramid 

 of coppery gold upon the very summit of the 

 earth-clogged roots, his head elevated, his ar- 

 mor reflecting the sunlight, and his daggers 

 drawn. 



$ 98 5 



