"No. There is one, really," cried Norman, examining the pan of his gun.

"It attacked aunt."

Shanter shook his head.

"Baal. Can't pidney. What say?"

"Big snake no budgery, bite aunt," said Norman.

"Snake bite big white Mary. Baal bite: all mumkull."

"Oh, I do wish the man would speak English," cried Aunt Georgie.

"There, you boys, stand back.--Shanter, go and kill the snake."

Shanter shook his head and tucked his nulla-nulla in his waistband again, laughing silently all the time.

"But there is a terribly great one, Shanter, and I order you to go and kill it."

"Baal mumkull snake."

"Yes; you can kill it, sir. Go and kill it directly. Throw that thing at it, and knock it down."

Shanter shook his head again.

"Here, I'll soon shoot it, aunt," said Norman; but Aunt Georgie held his arm tightly.

"No, sir, I shall not let you go.--Rifle, Tim, I forbid you to stir.-- Shanter, do as I tell you," she continued, with a stamp of her foot.

"Go and kill that horrible snake directly, or not one bit of damper do you ever get again from me."

"Big white Mary gib Shanter plenty damper."

"Yes; and will again. You are a big, strong man, and know how to kill snakes. Go and kill that one directly."

Shanter shook his head.

"Why, you are not afraid, sir?"

"No. Baal 'fraid snake," said Shanter in a puzzled way, as he looked searchingly from one to the other.

"Then go and do as I say."

"He's afraid of it," said Norman. "I don't like them, aunt, but I'll go and shoot it."

"Mine baal 'fraid," cried the black, angrily. "Mumkull plenty snake.

Metancoly."

"Then why don't you go and kill that one?" said Norman as his aunt still restrained him.

"Baal snake bunyip," cried Shanter, angrily, naming the imaginary demon of the blacks' dread.

"Who said it was a bunyip?" cried Rifle. "It's a big snake that tried to bite aunt."

Shanter laughed and shook his head again.

"Baal mumkull snake bulla (two) time. Mumkull bunyip plenty. Come again."

"What muddle are you talking?" cried Norman, angrily; "the brute will get away. Look here, Shan, are you afraid?"

"Mine baal 'fraid."

"Then go and kill it."

"Baal mumkull over 'gain. Shanter mumkull. Make fire, put him in kidgen."

"What!" cried Aunt Georgie. "You put the snake in the kitchen?"

The black nodded.

"Mine put snake in kidgen for big white Mary."

"To bite me?"

"Baal--baal--baal bite big white Mary. Big white Mary, Marmi (captain), plenty bite snake. Good to eat."

"Here, I see," cried Norman, bursting out laughing, the black joining in. "He brought the snake for you to cook, auntie."

"What!" cried Aunt Georgie, who turned red with anger as the boy shook himself loose and ran round to the kitchen door, closely followed by Shanter and the others.

As Norman ran into the kitchen, he stopped short and pointed the gun, for right in the middle of the floor, writhing about in a way that might easily have been mistaken for menace, was a large carpet-snake.

Just as the boy realised that its head had been injured, Shanter made a rush past him, seized the snake by the tail, and ran out again dragging it after him with one hand, then s.n.a.t.c.hing out his club, he dropped the tail, and quick as thought gave the writhing creature a couple of heavy blows on the head.

"Baal mumkull nuff," he said, as the writhing nearly ceased. Then, taking hold of the tail again, he began to drag the reptile back toward the kitchen door, but Norman stopped him.

"No; don't do that."

"Plenty budgery. Big white Mary."

"He says it's beautiful, aunt, and he brought it as a present for you.

Shall he put it in the kitchen?"

"What?" cried Aunt Georgie; "make the horrid fellow take it, and bury it somewhere. I was never so frightened in my life."

All this was explained to Shanter, who turned sulky, and looked offended, marching off with his prize into the scrub, his whereabouts being soon after detected by a curling film of grey smoke.

"Here, come on, boys," cried Tim. "Shanter's having a feed of roast snake."

"Let's go and see," cried Norman, and they ran to the spot where the fire was burning, to find that Tim was quite correct. Shanter had made a good fire, had skinned his snake, and was roasting it in the embers, from which it sent forth a hissing sound not unlike its natural utterance, but now in company with a pleasantly savoury odour.