A deaf-adder crawled out of it.

Joe killed it.

Dave looked closely at his hand, which was all scratches and scars.

He looked at it again; then he sat on the beam of the plough, pale and miserable-looking.
"D-d-did it bite y', Dave ?" No answer.
Joe saw a chance to distinguish himself, and took it.

He ran home, glad to be the bearer of the news, and told Mother that "Dave's got bit by a adder--a sudden-death adder--right on top o' the finger." How Mother screamed! "My God! whatever shall we do?
Run quick," she said, "and bring Mr.Maloney.