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She saw a rattler cross the trail in front of the buckboard and draw its loathsome length into a coil at the base of some crabbed yucca, and thereafter she made grimaces at each of the ugly plants they passed. It was new to her, and wonderful.
"Don't it?" said the snake-snapper. "There's many that gets fooled by it." "An antelope knows a snake is his enemy," said another to me. "Ever seen a buck circling round and round a rattler?" "I have always wanted to see that," said I, heartily. For this I knew to be a respectable piece of truth. "It's worth seeing," the man went on.
If I hold her right, she always sends the ball where I tell her, After we were all fixed, I told 'em hunting-stories till bedtime. "Next morning was clear and cold, and by times I sounded my horn, and my dogs came howling 'bout me, ready for a chase. Old Rattler was a little lame a bear bit him in the shoulder; but Soundwell, Tiger, and the rest of 'em were all mighty anxious.
But these be mere externals. The true harbinger is the heart. When Strephon seeks his Chloe and Mike his Maggie, then only is spring arrived and the newspaper report of the five-foot rattler killed in Squire Pettigrew's pasture confirmed. Ere the first violet blew, Mr. Peters, Mr. Ragsdale and Mr. Kidd sat together on a bench in Union Square and conspired. Mr.
I used to be afraid to git out of bed at night without puttin' on my boots, but if any old rattler crawls under my cot now it's good-bye, Mr. Snake. Tommy is right there with the goods and he ain't been bit yet, neither. He killed three side-winders last Summer didn't you, Tom, Old Socks? and if any sheep-herder's dog comes snoopin' around the back door he'll mount him in a minute.
When the sun began to swim low over the hills, he looked at her with a curiously grim smile. "I reckon that rattler was fooled last night," he said. "But if foolin' him had been left to me I expect I'd have made a bad job of it. But I'm thinkin' that he done his little old dyin' when the sun went down last night. An' I'm still here.
He was interrupted now and then by a shrewd question, an exclamation, or a word of assent, and, after he had finished the account, said: "Well, that is all there is to report. What do you think?" "Who is Thomas W. Presby?" Sloan's question was abrupt. "The owner of the Rattler, the mine next to us." "He is?" the question was explosive. "Ah, ha! The moth in the closet, eh? So that accounts for it!
The clump of esparto, into the bottom of which he must reach to cut the mature stalks, is quite likely to be the lair of a poisonous viper; and if the reptile sinks its fangs into the flesh of the unfortunate picker, long weeks of suffering and disability perhaps death are in store for him. Between the bite of a rattler and that of an esparto viper there is little to choose.
"Writing books, I suppose." "Or privately married." "Or growing too rich rich men are always unhappy beings." "Ha, Ferrers, how are you?" "So-so. What's the news?" replied Lumley. "Rattler pays forfeit." "O! but in politics?" "Hang politics are you turned politician?" "At my age, what else is there left to do?"
It was the freakish voice of a nickum which answered. "No! No buzzer, as the boys say, but there was a rattler, in there, beside that rock. If some of you girls had gone ahead, you'd have stepped right on him!" "A 'rattler! A big rattlesnake! And and you started the cry, to get us out quietly quickly!" "Not we! The Scoutmaster had the presence of mind to launch an aëroplane.
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