“Sneak, I never saw that before,” said Joe, as they approached, while yet some forty paces distant.  “What does it mean?”

“You’ll see presently,” said his companion, grasping more firmly the thick end of his rod, as if preparing to deal a blow.  “When I was out here this morning,” he continued, “they were too thick for me, and I had to make tracks.”

“What were too thick for you?” asked Joe, with a singular anxiety, and at the same time reining in his pony.

“Why, the snakes,” said Sneak with much deliberation.  “I was a-foot then, and from the style in which they whizzed through the grass, I was afraid too many might git on me at a time and choke me to death.  But now I’m ready for ’em; they can’t git us if we manage korect.”

“I won’t go!” said Joe.

“Dod, they ain’t pisen!” said Sneak; “they’re nearly all black racers, and they don’t bite.  Come on, don’t be such a tarnation coward; the rattlesnakes, and copper-heads, and wipers, won’t run after us; and if they was to, they couldn’t reach up to our legs.  This is a glorious day for snaking—­come on, Joe!”

Joe followed at a very slow and cautious pace a few steps farther, and then halted again.

“What’re you stopping for agin?” asked Sneak.

“Sneak, the pony ain’t tall enough!”

“That’s all the better,” replied Sneak; “you can whack ’em easier as they run—­and then they can’t see you as fur as they kin me.  I’ll swap hosses with you.”

“No you won’t!” replied Joe, whipping forward again.  But he had not advanced many seconds before he drew up once more.  This time he was attracted by the unaccountable motions of the fawn, a short distance ahead.  That animal was apparently striking some object on the ground with its feet, and ever and anon springing violently to one side or the other.  Its hair stood erect on its back, and it assumed a most ferocious aspect.  Now it would run back toward the men a moment, and, wheeling suddenly, again leap upon the foe, when its feet could be heard to strike against the ground; then it plunged forward, and after making a spring beyond, would return to the attach.

“Here, Ringwood!  Jowler!” cried Joe, and the hounds ran forward to the spot pointed out to them.  But no sooner had they gone far enough to see the nature of the enemy that the fawn was attacking, than they turned away affrighted, and with their tails hanging down retreated from the scene of action.

They rode up and surveyed more closely the strange battle.  The fawn, becoming more and more enraged, did not suspend hostilities at their approach.  They paused involuntarily when, within a few feet of the object, which proved to be a tremendous rattlesnake, some five feet in length, and as thick as a man’s arm.  It was nearly dead, its body, neck, and head, exhibited many bloody gashes cut by the sharp hoofs of the fawn.  Every time the fawn sprang upon it, it endeavoured in vain to strike its fangs into its active foe, which sprang away in a twinkling, and before it could prepare to strike again, the fatal hoofs would inflict another wound on its devoted head.  It grew weaker and weaker, and finally turned over on its back, when the infuriated deer, no longer compelled to observe cautionary measures, soon severed its head entirely from the body and stood over it in triumph.