TO WARNER'S SPRINGS 227 



that it was one of them blame trade-rats. But the 

 snake topic, once started, is ever a prolific one. 

 Did I know how a king-snake kills a rattler? "Well, 

 sir, the son-of-a-gun just naturally jumps on top of 

 him, yes, sir, jumps clean off the ground and lights 

 plum on Mr. Rattler and does him up. Say, he's 

 a son-of-a-gun, ain't he now? Snakes don't jump, 

 don't they? Well, then, how about this? Up in 

 Placer County I killed a rattler one day ; cut off his 

 head and two inches down the neck; and then that 

 rattler up and jumped two foot clear. Why, they're 

 powerful jumpers, them sons-of-guns are." 



He desired my opinion as to the best course to 

 follow in the event of finding a rattler with one in 

 bed. To jump, or not to jump, that was the ques- 

 tion. I was strongly for jumping, but McSandy had 

 his doubts: he feared that the rattler would "get" 

 him ere he was halfway to the door, and would strike 

 even in mid-air — yes, sir. I brought up the hoop- 

 snake legend. "Why, yes, sir," McSandy responded, 

 "that's all right. I 've seen them fellers many a time 

 down in the Argentine. He puts his tail in his mouth, 

 and starts to roll, and roll, and — say, I 'd hate to 

 have one of them fellers a-hooping after me. Joint- 

 snake? — the feller that breaks in little bits when 

 you hit him and then joins up together again? No, 

 I ain't ever seen them do it, but I reckon it's so, all 

 right." Twenty feet was his estimate of the length 

 of red racers that had crossed his path, while as for 

 speed, greased lightning was a weak comparison. 

 He had full belief also in the deadly nature of 

 the tarantula's, scorpion's, and centipede's "sting," 



