No wonder the snakes live here,"
said Strickland, climbing further into the roof.
said Strickland, climbing further into the roof.
Kipling - Poems
The bricks are too cold for 'em, and the heat of the room
is just what they like. " He put his hands to the corner of the cloth
and ripped the rotten stuff from the cornice. It gave great sound of
tearing, and Strickland put his head through the opening into the
dark of the angle of the roof beams. I set my teeth and lifted the
loading-rod, for I had not the least knowledge of what might descend.
"H'm," said Strickland; and his voice rolled and rumbled in the roof.
"There's room for another set of rooms up here, and, by Jove! some one
is occupying em. "
"Snakes? " I said down below.
"No. It's a buffalo. Hand me up the two first joints of a masheer rod,
and I'll prod it. It's lying on the main beam. "
I handed up the rod.
"What a nest for owls and serpents!
No wonder the snakes live here,"
said Strickland, climbing further into the roof. I could see his elbow
thrusting with the rod. "Come out of that, whoever you are! Look out!
Heads below there! It's tottering. "
I saw the ceiling-cloth nearly in the centre of the room bag with a
shape that was pressing it downward and downward toward the lighted
lamps on the table. I snatched a lamp out of danger and stood back. Then
the cloth ripped out from the walls, tore, split, swayed, and shot down
upon the table something that I dared not look at till Strickland had
slid down the ladder and was standing by my side.
He did not say much, being a man of few words, but he picked up the
loose end of the table-cloth and threw it over the thing on the table.
"It strikes me," said he, pulling down the lamp, "our friend Imray has
come back. Oh! you would, would you? "
There was a movement under the cloth, and a little snake wriggled out,
to be back-broken by the butt of the masheer rod. I was sufficiently
sick to make no remarks worth recording.
Strickland meditated and helped himself to drinks liberally.
is just what they like. " He put his hands to the corner of the cloth
and ripped the rotten stuff from the cornice. It gave great sound of
tearing, and Strickland put his head through the opening into the
dark of the angle of the roof beams. I set my teeth and lifted the
loading-rod, for I had not the least knowledge of what might descend.
"H'm," said Strickland; and his voice rolled and rumbled in the roof.
"There's room for another set of rooms up here, and, by Jove! some one
is occupying em. "
"Snakes? " I said down below.
"No. It's a buffalo. Hand me up the two first joints of a masheer rod,
and I'll prod it. It's lying on the main beam. "
I handed up the rod.
"What a nest for owls and serpents!
No wonder the snakes live here,"
said Strickland, climbing further into the roof. I could see his elbow
thrusting with the rod. "Come out of that, whoever you are! Look out!
Heads below there! It's tottering. "
I saw the ceiling-cloth nearly in the centre of the room bag with a
shape that was pressing it downward and downward toward the lighted
lamps on the table. I snatched a lamp out of danger and stood back. Then
the cloth ripped out from the walls, tore, split, swayed, and shot down
upon the table something that I dared not look at till Strickland had
slid down the ladder and was standing by my side.
He did not say much, being a man of few words, but he picked up the
loose end of the table-cloth and threw it over the thing on the table.
"It strikes me," said he, pulling down the lamp, "our friend Imray has
come back. Oh! you would, would you? "
There was a movement under the cloth, and a little snake wriggled out,
to be back-broken by the butt of the masheer rod. I was sufficiently
sick to make no remarks worth recording.
Strickland meditated and helped himself to drinks liberally.
