Gil the Gunner - George Manville Fenn (people reading books .TXT) 📗

warmth, coiled itself upon my chest, where it now lay with its cool head upon my neck.

I was awake now fully, and, above all, to the terror of my situation. What shall I do? I asked myself, as the icy feeling of horror increased. I dared not move or attempt to call, for the reptile’s head was close to my chin, and the slightest stir might cause it to bite; for at the first alarm I felt certain that it must be one of the poisonous cobras which infested the land.

As I lay there, I could feel the perspiration streaming out of my pores, and the weight upon my chest increasing rapidly, till I began to fancy that if I were not soon relieved I should be suffocated.

How long I lay like this I cannot say; but it felt to me almost an eternity, and the more painful from the fact that there was help close at hand, so near that a call would bring in one if not more of the servants instantly.

One moment my lips parted ready to utter a cry; but that cry, in spite of several attempts, was not uttered. For the idea of being bitten, of receiving the two sharp fangs of the monster in my flesh, was so horrible that, cowardly or no, I could not call. I had heard too much of the results of a cobra bite, and the thought of the insidious poison making its way rapidly through the veins, and ending one’s life by arresting the pulsations of the heart in a few minutes, or at most hours, was too terrible for me to run any risk.

I think I must have nearly fainted away, for I was very weak; but I never quite lost my senses, but lay looking with misty eyes across the gleaming scaly skin there upon my heart, and feeling from time to time a peculiar movement, as if one coil were passing over another.

Then I tried hard to call up my courage, and wondered whether by a sharp movement I could heave the reptile from me, while I tried to roll myself off on the other side of the bed. But I knew that it was impossible, for I was weak as a child, and, setting aside the pain such a movement would have caused, it was in my then state impossible.

At last, when the stress upon my mind was enough to make me feel that, at any cost, I must try and call for help, I heard a movement outside the tent, and my lips parted once more to speak, but no sound came. I could only lie in expectancy, with my eyes fixed upon the gleaming scales, which were now certainly in motion.

There was another faint noise outside, and I felt that help was coming—one of the men, to see whether I required anything. But, no; it ceased once more; hope died out of my breast, and at all costs I was going to utter a hoarse cry, for I could bear the suspense no longer, when there was a louder rustle outside, and this time my flesh seemed to creep, for the serpent was all in motion, and it had raised its head to look in the direction of the sound, and I could see its bent, spade-like shape, and the bright gleaming eyes.

Suddenly the purdah was softly drawn aside; and as I strained my eyes sidewise to try and catch a glimpse of the man who entered, I saw him approach silently, till he was near my couch, when he suddenly caught sight of the serpent, uttered a faint cry, and fled.

I shuddered in my despair as I saw him sweep back the purdah and dart through, and then I mentally called him a coward for not coming to my help.

But I was premature in judging him, for all at once he darted back, armed with a stout bamboo, and came cautiously toward where I lay now nearly freed from my burden; for, at the sight of the men who came swiftly in, the serpent’s coils began to pass one over the other till it was all in motion; and it was evidently gliding off me, to retreat to the hole beneath the canvas through which it had found its way.

But it had not made sufficient haste. Just before it had reached the canvas, the man was upon it, bringing the bamboo down with so terrible a blow that the serpent twisted itself up, writhing and struggling in a perfect knot, the tail flogging the carpet, and the head rising and falling convulsively, till the man struck at it again and again, crippling the tail with one blow; and, after watching his opportunity, succeeded in delivering so fierce a cut at the head that the neck was broken, and it fell back upon the writhing knot perfectly inert, a few more blows making the body as helpless as the head and neck.

This done, the man seized the creature by the tail, and drew it out to its full length, which seemed to me to be eight or nine feet; but the creature was very thick.

The man had turned to me with a scared face, and spoke almost for the first time since he had been my attendant, saying in Hindustani—

“I pray that my lord will not tell my master the maharajah!”

“Not tell him you killed the snake?”

“No, my lord. He would say thy servant did right to slay the serpent; but he would punish him for not keeping guard, and seeing that no serpent came.”

“Would it have bitten and poisoned me?” I asked.

“No, my lord. This kind does not bite and poison, only twists round and crushes. It is very strong.”

“How did it come in?” I said.

He went down on his hands and knees and examined the edge of the tent, looking for a hole where the creature could have crept under; but every part was secure, and the man rose, and his face wore a puzzled look.

“Thy servants have done their work well,” he said. “There is no hole where the serpent could have crept under. I do not know.”

He was peering about in silence, while I lay gradually recovering my equanimity, and congratulating myself on the fact that my nocturnal visitor had been a serpent of the boa kind, and not a deadly cobra, when the man suddenly held up his finger, and pointed to a spot beyond the lamp, where the roof and canvas wall of the tent joined.

As I tried to penetrate the dim, warm twilight of the room, I could hear a faint rustling sound, and I saw my attendant stoop cautiously and go, without making a sound, toward the spot where his stick lay on the carpet, not far from the still heaving body of the reptile he had slain.

As I gazed hard at the place whence the rustling came, I suddenly caught sight of something behind the lamp, something shadowy or misty, swaying gently to any fro, and I at once grasped the fact that it was another serpent entering the tent by the way in which the first must have found its way.

I had hardly arrived at this point when my attention was taken up by the action of my attendant, who was stealing round like a black shadow close to the side of the tent, and the next minute he raised his stick, and made a sharp blow at the intruder.

There was a sharp crack, a loud rustling, and the man darted back with only half his staff in his hand, to run out of the tent, and leave me alone with the body of the first serpent, which I half fancied was moving slowly toward where I lay helpless, if it happened to have still vitality enough left in its shattered length to come and wreak its vengeance on one who could not defend himself.

But while I was watching the slowly writhing creature, which in the dim light looked of far greater proportion than before, I could hear trampling and voices outside, then loud rustling as if men were hurrying about through bushes, and at last, to my great relief, the man came back.

“Thy servant struck the snake,” he said, “and broke the staff; but so much of it was outside that it darted back and crawled away before we could get to the spot and find it. The creature has gone away to die.”

“And now others will come, and that one too, if you have not killed it.”

“No, my lord,” he said. “That was the mate of the snake I killed. They go two together, and there is no fear. I struck it so hard that it will die, and the hole up there shall be fastened tightly.”

To my great satisfaction, he bent down and took the serpent by the tail and drew it out of the tent, and I heard him give orders to his companions to drag it right away into the forest, and to bury it as soon as it was day.

As he was talking, I was conscious of a peculiar, slightly musky odour pervading the tent, and I was wondering what it could be, when the man returned with two or three burning splints of some aromatic wood, which gave forth a great deal of smoke, and he walked about the tent, waving the pieces and holding them low down near the carpet where the serpent had lain, and also along a track leading past the lamp to the side of the tent where I had seen the shadowy form of the second serpent.

He busied himself in this way till the matches were pretty well burned down, and then placed the ends in a little brass vessel, which he stood on the carpet not far from my couch.

Then approaching me, he said humbly, and with a low reverence—

“Will my lord grant his servant’s prayer?”

“What do you mean?” I said, rather testily, for his excessive humility worried me. I hated to be worshipped like that. “Not tell the rajah about the snakes?”

“If my master the rajah knows, thy servant may be slain.”

“What! for that?” I said.

“Yes, my lord. His highness bade me take as great care of your life as I would of my own. Thy servant has tried to do his duty, and serve my lord. He has done everything the great physician, the rajah’s own doctor, bade him do, and cared for my lord as if he had been thy servant’s own son. It would be hard to die because a serpent of the forest came in after seeing the light.”

“Hard? Yes,” I said quietly. “There, mind no more of the brutes get in. I shall not say a word to the rajah or any one else.”

“Ah,” he cried joyfully. And before I could remove it, he had gone down on his knees and kissed my hand. “Thy servant goes back with joy in his heart. He did not love to serve him, for the white sahibs are cruel to their servants, and are hated; but they are not all so, and thy servant seeth now why his master the rajah loveth my lord, and careth for him as one who is very dear.”

“How I do hate for any one to fawn upon me like that!” I said to myself as soon as I was alone and I lay thinking about all my troubles, and being a prisoner, wondering how long it would be before I was strong again and able to escape; for I meant to do that. It was very pleasant to find that Ny Deen liked me, and recalled my civility to him sufficiently to make him wish to save my life; but all the same, I felt that I did not like him, for there was the treachery of a man who had come under false pretences to our cantonments, waiting, with others in his secret, for the time when they could