A HUNDRED PAIRS OF LEGS 
“Snake! Snake! It is in there!” screamed Bess, who 
was near a clump of weeds. 
The others ran toward her. Fred picked up a big 
stick. 
“No, no, Fred!” called Uncle Jack. “Don't hurt it until 
I get there and see what kind it is.” 
“It's—it’s there in the weeds,” said Bess. She was so 
frightened that she could hardly talk. “I — I almost 
stepped on it.” 
Uncle Jack came closer. “I see it,” he said. He 
stooped, reached among the weeds, and caught some¬ 
thing. Then he stood up, holding in his hand a squirm¬ 
ing, wriggling snake. 
“Oh, Uncle Jack, it will bite you!” cried Marylee. 
“No, it won't,” replied he. “But I don't care if it does. 
I have had snakes like this one bite me many times.” 
“Why didn’t you die when they bit you?” asked Bess. 
“I thought that people always died when snakes bit 
them.” 
“Well, I am not dead yet,” laughed Uncle Jack. “There 
are good snakes and bad snakes. This is one of the good 
snakes. The bad ones have two long, sharp teeth in the 
top of their mouths, which are poison teeth. Their bite 
makes one sick and sometimes it kills a person.” 
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