In the open baskets, or writhing freely about the floor of the den, were
fully fifty serpents of various sizes, many being only a foot or two
long, while several were as many yards in length.

A more repulsive and blood-curdling sight Chick had never experienced,
and the stage hand who had asked him to move laughed at his look of
mingled horror and repugnance.

"Ever seen any like 'em after a jamboree?" he inquired, good-naturedly.

"Well, hardly," said Chick, subduing his aversion. "If I were to go on a
drunk and see anything like them, I'd sign the pledge the next morning."

"A good scheme, too."

"I should say so."

"Some o' the crawling divils are as bad as they look," added the stage
hand, while he helped to place the snake den squarely on the stage.

"What do you mean?" inquired Chick, still gingerly surveying them.

"Pizen!"

"Venomous?"

"You bet! Durn 'em, I wouldn't touch one of them for the wealth of
Rockefeller."

"Do you mean that some of them still have their fangs and poison bags?"