To say that I got up, don’t half express it, boys.  I bounded as man never bounded before, startling deer, fawn, and everything else about me, but the snake.  He didn’t seem to care a particle, but retained his position near the rifle, looking as angry as if he thought me to blame for jumping; and the worst of it was, there was neither stick nor stone within sight, that I could get hold of.

I said, “Shoo!” but the snake wouldn’t shoo worth a cent.  I stamped on the ground, and said, “Get out!” but he wouldn’t move.  There he was, within six inches of my rifle; his long, slender body partially coiled so that he could easily strike any object approaching; with form erect, and long forked tongue, darting in and out of his half-opened mouth, as his flat, ugly head slowly vibrated to and fro like the pendulum of a clock.

It was growing dark too, and I was a long distance from camp, and the country was full of Mescalero Apaches, and I hadn’t even a stick to reach him with.  What could I do?

I bethought myself of my powder-flask, and taking good aim, hurled it with all the force I could muster.  It struck him fairly on the body and with a rattle of defiance, he sprang towards me, and I—­well, I jumped.

I managed to get hold of my rifle, but the snake was gone:  he was somewhere in the grass about me, and I didn’t know where; so I concluded to stand not on the order of my going, but go at once to camp, and go I did; but, before I was a hundred yards away I remembered that I had left my powder-flask behind.  Nor could I find Nat’s whistle anywhere about me, or even remember what I had done with it.  In the surprise occasioned by my discovery of the snake, I had dropped it.

It was too dark to think of returning to search for it that night; besides, there was a snake loose in the vicinity that I didn’t care to encounter.

I knew Nat would laugh at my returning without a deer, but I made up my mind to endure that, without getting angry; for I felt confident, camp was the place for me just then.

Nat asked no questions; but after a time, I voluntarily related to him the mishaps of the afternoon.  He laughed heartily, and promised to go with me in the morning and give me a practical lesson in deer-stalking.

The next day we visited the scene of my discomfiture, which Nat pronounced a splendid place for stalking, showing me where several fawns had lain the previous night.  We also found the ‘call,’ just where I dropped it when I made my jump, which Nat pronounced, equal to any ever made by a first-class circus-man:  in fact, I felt rather proud of it myself; and when Nat slyly remarked that I was better at jumping than at hunting, I made up my mind that I would have a deer that night, come what would.