"Quick! Mr. Damon! We must get him away!" cried Tom. "He may be
dead!"
Together the chums sprang forward. The folds of the serpent had
scarcely ceased moving before the two youths snatched their friend
away. Dropping their rifles, they lifted him up to bear him to the
sleeping tent which had been erected.
"Liver pin!" suddenly ejaculated Mr. Damon. It was what he started
to say when the serpent had squeezed the breath out of him, and, on
regaining consciousness from his momentary faint, his brain carried
out the suggestion it had originally received.
"How are you?" cried Tom, nearly dropping Mr. Damon's legs in his
excitement, for he had hold of his feet, while Ned was at the head.
"Are you all right?" gasped Ned.
"Yes--I--I guess so. I--I feel as though I had been put through a
clothes wringer though. What happened?"
"A big snake dropped down out of a tree and grabbed you," answered
Tom.
"And then what? Put me down, boys, I guess I can walk."
"We shot it," said Ned modestly.
"Bless my insurance policy!" exclaimed the odd gentleman. "I--I
hardly know what to say. I'll say it later.
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