28 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
I laughed and said I didn’t mind being a 
criminal in that way, and I also thought people 
greatly exaggerated the danger of adder bites. 
“You are wrong again!” he yelled, quite in a 
temper now. “As a naturalist, you ought to know 
better. Let me tell you that last summer I nearly 
lost my little son through an adder bite. He 
was in the Isle of Wight with his nurse, and 
trod on the thing and was bitten on the leg. For 
a whole day his life was trembling in the balance, 
and you dare to tell me that adders are not a 
danger! ” 
I apologised for having made light of the subject. 
He was right and I was wrong. But I couldn’t 
explain to him why I could not kill adders—or 
anything else. 
Let us now return to the adder-seeker who has 
unwittingly disturbed the adder he has found, and 
who sees it about to vanish into the brake. He 
has been waiting all this time to know what to do 
in such a case. He must let it vanish, and comfort 
himself with the thought that he has discovered 
its haunt and may re-find it another day, especially 
if he is so fortunate as to scare it from its favourite 
bed on which it is accustomed to lie sunning itself 
at certain hours each day until the progress of the 
season will make it too warm or otherwise un- 
suitable, when the old basking-place will be changed 
for a new one. But should he not be satisfied to 
lose sight of the adder immediately after dis- 
