Nat the Naturalist Part 36

"Ugh!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; and I made a jump back on to more solid ground.

"The danger has pa.s.sed now, Nat," he said, smiling at my dread; "but really I could not have believed such a creature existed in so small an island."

"Oh, uncle!" I cried, "I shall never like to go about again for fear of treading upon another."

"You will soon get over that, Nat, and perhaps we may have the luck to shoot the brute. I don't think we did it much mischief this time, though I got a good sight of it as it glided amongst the canes."

"Why, we had no shot in our guns, uncle," I cried; "we took them out so as not to knock the sun-birds about too much."

"Of course!" cried my uncle. "How foolish of me not to remember this!"

We had both reloaded now, and then, without heeding a shout from Ebo, we stood looking in the direction taken by the reptile, though now all the luxuriant canes and gra.s.ses were quite still.

"What do you say, Nat?" said my uncle. "Shall we follow the monster and try and shoot it?"

"It must be forty or fifty feet long, uncle," I said, feeling a curious creeping sensation run through me.

"Forty or fifty nonsenses, my boy!" he said, laughing. "Such serpents as that only exist in books. They rarely exceed twenty feet where they are largest. That fellow would not be fifteen. What do you say--will you come?"

"Ye-es, uncle," I said hesitatingly, feeling hot and cold by turns.

"Why, Nat," he said quietly, "you are afraid!" I did not speak for a moment or two, but felt the hot blood flush into my face as I stood there looking him full in the eyes, and unable to withdraw my gaze.

"Yes, uncle," I said at last. "I did not want to be, but a serpent is such a horrible thing, and I am afraid."

"Yes, it is a horrible monster, Nat," he said quietly. "I don't like them myself, but if we could kill it--"

"I can't help feeling afraid, uncle," I said, "but I'm ready to go on now."

"What! to attack it, Nat?"

"Yes, uncle."

"It will be rather dangerous, my boy."

"Yes, uncle," I said. "I suppose so; but I want to get over being so afraid of things. I'm quite ready now."

I looked to him to come on at once, but he did not move, and stood looking at me for some minutes without speaking.

"Then we will go and attack the brute, Nat," he said; "but it will not go away from that bit of a swamp, so we will try and put a little more nerve into our hearts with a good breakfast, and then have Ebo to help us, unless he proves to be a worse coward than you."

"He could not be, uncle," I said pitifully; and I felt very, very miserable.

"Oh! yes, he could be, Nat, my boy," said my uncle, smiling, and grasping me affectionately by the arm. "You are a coward, Nat, but you fought with your natural dread, mastered it, and are ready to go and attack that beast. Master Ebo may be a coward and not fight with and master his dread. So you see the difference, my boy."

Another shout from the black made us hasten our steps to where he was dancing about and pointing to the crisp brown pigeons, big as chickens, with great green leaves for plates, and the new ripe cocoa-nuts divested of their husks; but for a few moments I could not eat for thinking of the serpent. My fresh young appet.i.te a.s.serted itself though soon after, and, forgetting the danger to come, I made one of the most delicious of meals.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

MANY FEET OF UNPLEASANTRY.

It was only while I was sc.r.a.ping out the last of the delicate cream from the inside of a huge cocoa-nut that I recalled the task we had to come, and a curious s.h.i.+ver ran through me as I glanced in the direction of the swamp where, nearly a mile away, the reptile lay.

Ebo knew nothing about it as yet, and I hardly conceived how he would be made to understand what we had seen.

"Do you think he will be ready to help kill the serpent, uncle?" I said, after waiting for some time to see if he would say anything about the attack.

"I hardly know, Nat," he replied cheerily; "but we'll soon try him. By the way, use the cartridges with the largest kind of shot, for we must make up for this morning's mistakes. Here, Ebo, we've seen a snake," he said.

"Ung-kul, Nat-mi-boi. Hal-lo, hal-lo hal-lo!" replied Ebo, laughing merrily, and showing his white teeth.

"We shall not get at his understanding like that," said my uncle quietly; and he sat thinking for a moment.

"Shall I try and draw a snake, uncle?" I said.

"To be sure, Nat," he replied, laughing; "but where are paper, pencil, or chalk? Stop a minute--I have it."

We generally carried a stout piece of cord with us, ready for any emergency, and this cord, about ten yards long and a little thicker than clothes-line, my uncle now untwisted from his waist, where he had worn it like a belt, and calling Ebo's attention to it he laid it out upon the ground. Then holding one end he made it wave about and crawl and curve and twine, ending by knotting it up in a heap and laying the end carefully down as if it were a serpent asleep.

Ebo watched the process attentively, at first seriously and then as if delighted, clapping his hands, dancing, and chattering away as if telling my uncle how clever he was.

"But that does not show him what we want, uncle," I said.

"Well, then, you try."

I took up the rope, made it undulate a little, and then as Ebo looked on I gave it a quick twist and wound it round him, pretending to make the end bite.

He took to it directly, pretending that the reptile was crus.h.i.+ng him, fighting his way free of the folds, picking up his club and attacking it in turn, beating the make-believe head with his club, and finally indulging in a war-dance as he jumped round, dragging the imaginary serpent after him, pretending all the while that it was very heavy, before stooping down to smell it, making a grimace, and then throwing down the rope, which he pretended to bury in the sand.

"It's all right, Nat. He understands, and has evidently encountered big snakes. Now, then, to show him our enemy, for he will fight."

My uncle was right, for it was evident that Ebo quite understood us and meant fighting, for, sticking his spear in the ground, he made signs to me that I should lend him my hunting-knife, which I at once did, and laughing and chattering away he looked about him a little, and then proceeded to cut down a sapling tree about as thick as his arm, from whose trunk he selected a piece a couple of feet in length and carefully trimmed it into a formidable club with a smooth, small handle, while he left the thick end jagged with the ugly places from which he had cut the branches.

He was not long in getting it into shape, and no sooner had he satisfied himself with his work than he returned my hunting-knife, making believe that he was horribly afraid lest it should cut off his head, and then proceeded to attack an imaginary serpent that was trying to escape through the bushes. Now he was trying to strike it, now retreating, now making blows at it upon the ground, now in the air, ending by dropping his club and seizing the neck of the creature, which he pretended had coiled round him; now he was down upon one knee, now overthrown and rolling over and over in a fierce struggle; but at last his acting came to a conclusion by his striking the reptile's head against a tree, kicking off an imaginary coil from his leg, and strutting about proudly to show how he had conquered.

The most surprising part of the affair was that he did not seem to be in the slightest degree exhausted by his efforts, but picked up his club and began chattering to us, and pointing to the marsh as if asking us to come on.

"Well, Nat," said my uncle, "if he will only fight half as well as that when we encounter the serpent, there ought to be nothing to fear. We ought to master the brute easily."

"Would such a serpent be very strong, uncle?" I asked.

"Wonderfully strong," he replied. "Their muscles are tremendously powerful. See what strength anything of similar form possesses; an eel, for instance."

"Yes, uncle," I said thoughtfully, as I recalled how difficult I had once found it to hold a large one that I had caught. "Eels are very strong."

"Look here, Nat," said my uncle kindly, "I don't think we should run any risks in following up this serpent, for one good shot would disable it; but still it may be a little perilous, and it is not just to expect a boy of your age to face such a danger. You stop back at a distance, and I will send Ebo into the marsh to drive it out, while I try to get a shot at it."