LIX.


Having fastened his gaze upon a sparrow, a rattlesnake sprung open his
spanning jaws, and invited her to enter.

"I should be most happy," said the bird, not daring to betray her
helpless condition, but anxious by any subterfuge to get the serpent
to remove his fascinating regard, "but I am lost in contemplation of
yonder green sunset, from which I am unable to look away for more
than a minute. I shall turn to it presently."

"Do, by all means," said the serpent, with a touch of irony in his
voice. "There is nothing so improving as a good, square, green
sunset."

"Did you happen to observe that man standing behind you with a club?"
continued the sparrow. "Handsome fellow! Fifteen cubits high, with
seven heads, and very singularly attired; quite a spectacle in his
way."

"I don't seem to care much for men," said the snake. "Every way
inferior to serpents--except in malice."

"But he is accompanied by a _really interesting_ child," persisted the
bird, desperately.

The rattlesnake reflected deeply. He soliloquized as follows: