THE GREEN TREE SNA EE. 
21 3 
Now the neck of that python was not thicker than my 
wrist, but I am quite sure that it would not have been at 
the trouble to squeeze the life out of that monkey if it had 
not trusted it could swallow him. So it may be that my 
Green Tree Snake lives on little birds. I hope not. It 
certainly did not appear to have a guilty conscience as it 
lay there, with its head a little raised, looking strangely 
at me. I touched it with my stick, and it lifted its head 
a little higher. Then I put my stick under it gently and 
lifted it up. If it had been dead it would have slid off on 
one side or other, but being alive, it perched on the smooth 
stick as if its scales had been so many little grasping feet. 
Its tail hung down one side, and on the other its neck 
rose up in a beautiful curve, like the letter S. It seemed 
rather surprised that a branch of a tree should have come 
down to it and saved it the trouble of climbing. It con- 
cluded that I in my green shikar suit was the tree, and 
began to advance along the stick with the view of climbing 
up my arm and mounting my hat. Then it changed its 
mind. It seemed to think I was not an inviting sort of 
tree, not leafy or twiggy enough, only an old mossgrown 
trunk. I really wonder what was passing through the 
strange creature’s brain ! 
