CHAPTER XXII 

IN A SNAKES' DEN 

"Just in time, and no mistake," remarked Songbird as he surveyed the scene outside. "No use of talking, when it rains down here, it rains!" 

"Well, a rainstorm isn't a picnic party," returned Tom. "I wouldn't care so much if I wasn't so anxious to hear from Sam and Dick." 

"Dot is vot ve all vonts," broke in Hans. 

They crouched in the back of the shelter, so that the rain might not drive down upon them. It was a steady downpour for half an hour, when it began to slacken up, and the sun looked as if it might break through the clouds once more. 

"We won't be detained so long, after all!" cried Fred. 

"I am just as well satisfied," began Tom, and then gave a jump. "Boys, look there! Did you ever see anything like it?" 

They looked in the direction pointed out, and each one sprang up as if he had received an electric shock, while Wags began to bark furiously. And small wonder, for directly in front of the shelter was a collection of snakes numbering at least thirty or forty. They were black, brown and green in color and from two to four feet in length. Some were lying flat, while others were curled up in various attitudes. 

"Snakes!" faltered Fred. "And what a lot of them!" 

"Dere ain't no choke apout dis!" gasped Hans, his eyes almost as big as saucers. "Vot shall ve do?" 

"Get your pistols, boys!" came from Songbird, and he drew his weapon. 
In the front of the shelter?
They crouched in the back of the shelter