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"
I
think
there
’
s
one
under
my
bed
.
Can
you
come
look
?
"
"
Are
you
bein
’
funny
?
"
Jem
opened
the
door
.
He
was
in
his
pajama
bottoms
.
I
noticed
not
without
satisfaction
that
the
mark
of
my
knuckles
was
still
on
his
mouth
.
When
he
saw
I
meant
what
I
said
,
he
said
,
"
If
you
think
I
’
m
gonna
put
my
face
down
to
a
snake
you
’
ve
got
another
think
comin
’
.
Hold
on
a
minute
.
"
He
went
to
the
kitchen
and
fetched
the
broom
.
"
You
better
get
up
on
the
bed
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
reckon
it
’
s
really
one
?
"
I
asked
.
This
was
an
occasion
.
Our
houses
had
no
cellars
;
they
were
built
on
stone
blocks
a
few
feet
above
the
ground
,
and
the
entry
of
reptiles
was
not
unknown
but
was
not
commonplace
.
Miss
Rachel
Haverford
’
s
excuse
for
a
glass
of
neat
whiskey
every
morning
was
that
she
never
got
over
the
fright
of
finding
a
rattler
coiled
in
her
bedroom
closet
,
on
her
washing
,
when
she
went
to
hang
up
her
negligee
.
Jem
made
a
tentative
swipe
under
the
bed
.
I
looked
over
the
foot
to
see
if
a
snake
would
come
out
.
None
did
.
Jem
made
a
deeper
swipe
.
"
Do
snakes
grunt
?
"
"
It
ain
’
t
a
snake
,
"
Jem
said
.
"
It
’
s
somebody
.
"
Suddenly
a
filthy
brown
package
shot
from
under
the
bed
.
Jem
raised
the
broom
and
missed
Dill
’
s
head
by
an
inch
when
it
appeared
.
"
God
Almighty
.
"
Jem
’
s
voice
was
reverent
.
