and as Ned stood dazed by the enchantment of his environment, he was brought to earth with a jar by the whirring of rattles almost under his feet.  Every muscle of the boy was tense with excitement as he stood motionless, knowing that death, in a horrible form, was within striking distance of him.  The strange, paralyzing music of the dreaded “King Snake” of the Indians seems to come from all sides and until the threatened victim can see the reptile the motion of a hand may be fatal.  The seconds seemed minutes to Ned as he waited and watched, waited and watched, before he saw the fascinating, dreadful, gently swaying head and the lightning play of the forked tongue within easy striking distance.

[Illustration:  “HE SAW THE GENTLY SWAYING HEAD AND THE LIGHTNING FLAY OF THE FORKED TONGUE”]

He felt that if he jumped, the snake, so much quicker than he, would sink the glistening white fangs of that wide-open mouth deep in his flesh before he could get out of reach.  He compelled his quivering nerves to hold steady while he slowly, inch by inch, moved away from the coils of the angry reptile.  When Ned was six feet from the rattlesnake he sprang back and stood, almost fainting, quite out of reach of the reptile, which continued to wave its head and jar its rattles, but with less passion.  The boy had often been told never to leave a rattlesnake alive and he looked around until he found a stick about five feet long, with which he returned to the field of his fright.  The rattler had uncoiled and was creeping away when Ned rushed up and struck at him.  The snake coiled like a flash and striking back, sunk his fangs in the stick within a foot of the hand of the boy.  Again Ned struck, and the snake returned the blow, both of them missing their marks.  Then the stick fell on the coils of the reptile and the back of the rattlesnake was broken.  After a few finishing blows Ned dragged the six-foot creature by the tail to the bank and was thrusting it into the water when Dick called out: 

“Don’t you want to save the skin?”

“Don’t want to save anything to remind me of it.  I never expect to get the frightful sight of the open jaws and white fangs of that beast out of my dreams.”

Dick rested in camp the next day with the lynx, while Ned explored with the canoe, looking for the head of some river of the west coast that led to the Gulf, or for enough dry land to serve for a camp.  Every water course that he followed, sooner or later closed up on him.  He paddled four miles to the west through a long bay, only to find that there was no outlet on the western end, excepting a narrow creek which he followed until he could drag his canoe no farther.  He followed floating wisps of manatee grass, freshly torn up by the roots, hoping to find the manatee which had spilled them, that he might follow him to a channel which would lead out of the wilderness.  He discovered the manatee and was nearly swamped by the first dash of the frightened creature.  Then he lost track of the animal after a long chase among the innumerable keys of the so-called Ten Thousand Islands, and found that he was himself lost.  He paddled until it was dark and for an hour after that, when he gave up hope of finding his camp that night.