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day, sometimes a hundred, and we hadn’t felt one of them. Every snake is a wriggling seismograph.’
    ‘Speaking of hearing,’ Roger said, ‘do you hear a bell? Every time that snake twists I hear a tinkle.’
    Hal laughed. ‘Now you’re the one who is crazy. Snakes don’t tinkle.’
    This one does. Listen. Hear it? You’re so good at explaining - explain that.’
    Hal heard it. Even with all his training from childhood up as a practising naturalist, here was something he couldn’t explain. ‘You’ve got me there,’ he admitted.
    Toto, his shoulder bandaged, came to Hal. ‘You want?’ he said, pointing at the snake.
    ‘No, I don’t want it,’ Hal said. ‘You and the men can do what you like with it.’
    Toto grinned his appreciation and went back to the men. Hal was a good boss. He had made a kind gift to his crew.
    The men slit the underside of the body and began to strip oft the skin. It was worth good money. Python hide makes excellent leather. It is waterproof, damp-proof, wear-resistant. It does not crack, chip, or peel.
    It was better than cowhide or goatskin. These animals, since they have legs to keep them up off the ground, do not need such tough skins. A python which must drag its two-hundred-pound body over the ground and through brush must be protected by heavy armour.
    So python skin was strong and could be used in many ways. It could be turned into shoes, handbags, briefcases, luggage, upholstery, hats, belts, and so on. Even cameras, fountain pens, and tennis racket covers were made from it,
    But the skin would spoil unless it was stripped from the dead snake without delay. So Hal understood the haste of the crew.
    When the hide had been peeled free, the body was cut open and out tumbled a fine pork dinner - two fat pigs who must have been swallowed recently and were little affected by the snake’s digestive juices.
    The snake had evidently been guilty of raiding some native village.
    But still the tinkle was not explained. A little more cutting, and the mystery was cleared up. Out came the skeleton of a cat with a small bell on its neck. Toto took off the bell, washed it in the lake, and hung it on his neck-cord where it tinkled merrily as he worked.
    ‘Dig that hole larger,’ Hal advised the men. ‘Perhaps you’ll find the nest.’
    Six feet down they came upon a large chamber containing a great number of leathery white eggs about four inches in diameter. They counted them. There were ninety unopened eggs and two that had been broken.
    ‘Wonder what broke them,’ Roger said.
    ‘There’s your answer,’ Hal said, pointing out two baby snakes about a foot long. ‘Notice the horny tooth on the end of their snouts. They use that to slit open the shell.’
    The men were opening the other eggs. Coiled inside each was a small but complete snake, its little forked tongue darting in and out.
    The Africans seemed as delighted as if they had discovered gold. They carefully put every one of the ninety snakelets into a deep pan.
    ‘What good are they?’ Roger asked.
    ‘You’ll see at dinner-time.’
    The big snake was cut into thick slices. A fire was made near the cabin and not only the pigs but generous steaks of python meat were baked in the embers. The tiny snakes were skewered on spears and grilled over the fire. Everyone came to the banquet with a fine appetite, including Hal and Roger.
    It was the first time they had ever eaten snake. They were surprised to find it so good.
    ‘It’s like chicken,’ Roger said, ‘only not so dry.’
    Hal said, ‘I understand the cannibals like it even better than man-meat, just for that very reason - it’s not so dry. A man is about sixty per cent water. But a snake is seventy-five per cent water.’
     
    ‘I feel like a savage,’ Roger said, ‘sitting here and eating snake meat.’
    ‘You don’t need to feel that way about it,’ Hal said. ‘Your ancestors in Europe ate snake. It is still eaten to some extent in France - but for the