It reached its apogee, and fell twisting and hissing… and seeking flesh to bite. "Whoooa!" cried the audience and leaned back out of the way. Joe Flint had a new game and new friends: some of Savannah's half-breeds, who lived on the edge of the town, between the settlers and the local Indians, and were despised by both communities. Such men were found on the fringes of all the colonial towns, and it was Flint's genius to seek them out, befriend them, and use them. "Huh!" cried Flint, catching the copperhead viper neatly behind the head, and holding it twisting and lashing and angry. He turned its triangular head towards himself. He smiled into the gaping mouth. He smiled at the needle fangs and the venom that dripped from them. He brought it to his lips and kissed its nose. "Yeeee-hah!" cried the half-breeds, slapping their thighs, and leering and nudging one another in glee. Then Flint leapt up - "Boo!" he cried, dancing round the fire and thrusting the captive snake at first one man, then another, and chasing them as they staggered, falling and rolling, and laughing and laughing and swigging from jugs of the cheap, vile spirit that Flint had provided in such quantities. "Flint!
