"She's very small, is Whey-face, but somehow she seemed to fill the
_adobe_."
In the afternoon we had an adventure which gave us further insight
into the character and temperament of the new schoolmarm.
We all walked to Paradise across the home pasture, for Miss Buchanan
was anxious to inspect the site--there was nothing else then--of the
proposed schoolhouse. Her childlike simplicity and assurance in taking
for granted that she would eventually occupy that unbuilt academy
struck us as pathetic.
"I give her one week," said Ajax, "not a day more."
Coming back we called a halt under some willows near the creek. The
shade invited us to sit down.
"Are there snakes--rattlesnakes?" Miss Buchanan asked nervously.
"In the brush-hills--yes; here--no," replied my brother.
By a singular coincidence, the words were hardly out of his mouth when
we heard the familiar warning, the whirring, never-to-be-forgotten
sound of the beast known to the Indians as "death in the grass."
"Mercy!" exclaimed the schoolmarm, staring wildly about her. It is not
easy to localise the exact position of a coiled rattlesnake by the
sound of his rattle.
"Don't move!" said Ajax. "Ah, I see him! There he is! I must find a
stick."
The snake was coiled some half-dozen yards from us. Upon the top coil
was poised his hideous head; above it vibrated the bony, fleshless
vertebræ of the tail. The little schoolmarm stared at the beast,
fascinated by fear and horror. Ajax cut a switch from a willow; then
he advanced.
"Oh!" entreated Miss Buchanan, "please don't go so near."
"There's no danger," said Ajax. "I've never been able to understand
why rattlers inspire such terror. They can't strike except at objects
within half their length, and one little tap, as you will see, breaks
their backbone. Now watch! I'm going to provoke this chap to strike;
and then I shall kill him."
He held the end of the stick about eighteen inches from the glaring,
lidless eyes. With incredible speed the poised head shot forth. Ajax
laughed. The snake was recoiling, as he struck it on the neck.
Instantly it writhed impotently. My brother set the heel of his heavy
boot upon the skull, crushing it into the ground.
"Now let's sit down," said he.
"Hark!" said the little schoolmarm.
Another snake was rattling within a yard or two of the first.
"It's the mate," said I. "At this time of year they run in pairs. We
ought to have thought of that."
"I'll have him in a jiffy," said my brother.
As he spoke I happened to be watching the schoolmarm. Her face was
painfully white, but her eyes were shining, and her lips set above a
small, resolute chin.
"Let me kill him," she said, in a low voice.
"You, Miss Buchanan?"
"Yes."
"It's easy enough, but one mustn't--er--miss."
"I shan't miss."
She took the willow stick from my brother's hand. Every movement of
his she reproduced exactly, even to the setting of her heel upon the
serpent's head. Then she smiled at us apologetically.
"I hated to do it. I was scared to death, but I wanted to conquer that
cowardly Belle. It's just as you say, they're killed mighty easy. If
we could kill the Old Serpent as easy----" she sighed, not finishing
the sentence.