“I think,” he remarked, in his usual calm tones, “that we may consider the creature now beyond any power of doing harm.  You will be interested to hear,” he continued, bending over the remains of the creature, “that this is an exceedingly rare species, a sort of second cousin to the rattlesnake found only in this part of the world and fatally poisonous.”

“But how could it have got there?” Lenora faltered.

The Professor shook his head gravely.

“I am afraid,” he said, “that there can be no doubt about that.  I saw the Chinaman whom Laura is so fond of sneaking away from this tent a few minutes ago, and I suspected some devilry.  That is why I went and fetched my revolver.”

There was a roar of anger from French.  He snatched the weapon from the Professor’s hand.

“I’ll kill that yellow dog!” he shouted.  “Where is he?”

He dashed across the open space towards the camp wagon.  His teeth were set, and there was murder in his blazing eyes.

“Where’s that Chinaman?” he yelled at the top of his voice.

The cowboys struggled to their feet.  The Chinaman, who was sitting inside the cook wagon, poring over a book by the light of a lantern, recognised the note of fury in French’s tone and raised his head, startled.  A paroxysm of fear seized him.  The very moment that French threw open the door of the wagon, he kicked the lantern across the floor and plunged at the canvas sides of the vehicle, slipping underneath until he reached the ground.  French, left in darkness, groped around for a moment and then emerged.  The cowboys had gathered together outside.

“Say, Mr. Inspector French,” one of them demanded, “what’s wrong with John Chinaman?  You folks seem to have a sort of grudge against our cooks.  What’s the Oriental been doing, eh?”

“Tried to commit a filthy murder,” French shouted.  “Brought a snake and put it into the bed of one of the young women.”

They hesitated no longer.

“Come on, boys,” one of them cried.  “We’ll have to see this matter through.”

They found the spot where the Chinaman had escaped from the wagon, but even at that moment they heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs and saw a flying figure in the distance.

“Said he couldn’t ride!” French shouted.  “Told the young lady so when she wanted him to go and warn us of the fire.  Look at him now!”

“Come on, all of you,” one of the cowboys yelled, as they rushed for the horse.  “Bring your lariats.  We’ll have him, sure.”

French, with his start, was the first to reach a horse.  The cowboys galloped off through the shadows.  Dimly visible, they now and then caught a glimpse of their quarry; sometimes he faded out of sight altogether.

“We’ll have him through that patch of brush,” Long Jim shouted.  “He won’t dare to ride the pace there.”

They saw him for a moment bending low over his horse, but they did not see him slip easily from its back, roll over into the brushwood, and lie there concealed.  They heard the thunder of hoofs ahead, and they galloped by.  When they were out of sight, the Chinaman stole away into the darkness.  Nearly an hour later, the little party caught up with the riderless horse.  The language of the cowboys was picturesque.