"We shot it," said Ned modestly.
"Bless my insurance policy!" exclaimed the odd gentleman. "I—I hardly know what to say, I'll say it later. You saved my life. Let me see if any bones are broken."
None was, fortunately, and after staggering about a bit Mr. Damon found that he could limp along. But he was very sore and bruised, for, ihough the snake had squeezed him but for part of a minute, that was long enough. A few seconds more and nearly every bone in his body would have been crushed, for that is the manner in which a constrictor snake kills its prey before devouring it.
"Santa Maria! The dear gentleman is not dead then?" cried San Pedro, as the three approached the tents.
"Bless my name plate, no!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.
"Praise to all the saints! The brave young senors with their wonderful guns saved him. Now you must rest and sleep."
"I feel as if that was all I wanted to do for a month," commented Mr. Damon. His soreness and stiffness increased each minute, and he was glad to get to bed, while the boys and Eradicate rubbed his limbs with liniment. San Pedro knew of a leaf that grew in the jungle which, when
