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ssssomeone’ssss got to pay or ssssomeone’ssss got to get hurt—”
    â€œYou leave them alone!” Eeni shouted. “We all know the Blacktail brothers cheated.”
    The snake grinned at her. “Yum,” he said. “A ssssnack! Doessss anyone know if white ratssss are ssssaltier than gray onessss?”
    â€œIf your bets are so fair,” Uncle Rik proposed, “why not make one more?”
    â€œAnother bet?” Shane said.
    â€œFor what stakes?” Flynn said.
    â€œForgive what my nephew owes,” Uncle Rik said.
    â€œAnd if you lose this bet?” asked Shane.
    â€œI’ll pay double,” said Uncle Rik.
    â€œTssss, tssss, tssss,” Basil broke out into a loud, sibilant snake laugh. He laughed so hard all his coils shook and his head hit the ceiling, showering the hall with dust and dirt. “You? Pay double? You owe ussss more than you’ve got already.”
    â€œI’m good for it,” said Uncle Rik, but Kit noticed his uncle’s snout blushing in the same way Kit’s did. A family trait. It made the whole family bad at bluffing. Judging by the mess his house was in even before the snake busted down the door, Uncle Rik didn’t have a lot of seeds or nuts to lose in a bet.
    â€œYou ssssaid you were ‘good for it’ at the cockroach fightssss lasssst week,” said Basil. “And at the ssssparrow raccccessss before that. You’re in deep to the bossss.”
    â€œI . . . er . . .” Uncle Rik looked at his feet, embarrassed to be called out in front of his nephew. Uncle Rik was a gambler, and not one gifted with either skill or luck.
    â€œWe’ve learned better than to make bets with a historian,” said Flynn.
    â€œAn historian,” said Eeni.
    â€œWhat?” said Flynn.
    â€œAn historian,”
Eeni corrected him. “It’s the indefinite article preceding a vowel sound.”
    â€œWhat?” said Flynn.
    â€œYou said
‘a’ historian,
” said Eeni. “But it should’ve been ‘an’ historian. I’m just saying, if you’re gonna insult a fella, get your grammar right.”
    â€œYou’re a smart one,” said Flynn.
    â€œToo smart for a gutter rat,” said Shane.
    â€œI know what I know.” Eeni folded her arms.
    â€œWell, here’s something for you to know, Eeni,” said Flynn. “How long does it take a python to eat a raccoon?”
    â€œShe doesn’t know,” said Shane. “Basil. Show her. Eat Kit.”

Chapter Twelve
    RETIREMENT FUND
    BASIL’ S coils wrapped themselves around Kit and squeezed. The snake’s mouth opened wider than Kit’s whole head, and his breath smelled like rodent bones and cheese ale.
    Kit would not be Basil’s first meal of the day.
    â€œUncle Rik! Help!” Kit screamed.
    Eeni punched at Basil’s scaly side.
    â€œHow dare you come into my home to eat my nephew,” Uncle Rik yelled, rather unhelpfully.
    Kit realized if he was going to get saved, he was goingto have to save himself. He couldn’t wriggle free, and he couldn’t pry himself free. Although he had always been good at using his hands to get out of traps, they wouldn’t help this time. He’d have to use his wits instead.
    â€œUncle! Please!” he pleaded in his most desperate voice. “Just give them your secret stash of seeds.”
    â€œWhat?” Rik looked puzzled.
    â€œYour life savings!” Kit tried to wink at his uncle without anyone else seeing. “Your reTIREment fund?”
    â€œMy—wha—?” Uncle Rik began, then it dawned on him. “Oh . . . oh no . . . Kit, that’s worth far too much.”
    Flynn raised an eyebrow. Shane cocked his head to the side. Even Basil slowed his squeezing.
    Uncle Rik played it up now. “I’m sorry, kiddo, you’re a real pal of the paw and all that, but I’ve