FullReads

I put her in a wooden box that had contained soap and nailed slats over the top. And, personally, I was quite willing to put scrap-iron in the box with her and fling it overboard. But I did not feel quite justified without consulting Graves.

As an extra precaution in case of accidents, I overhauled my medicine-chest and made up a little package for the breast pocket–a lancet, a rubber bandage, and a pill-box full of permanganate crystals. I had still much collecting to do, “back there in the grass,” and I did not propose to step on any of Bo’s cousins or her sisters or her aunts–without having some of the elementary first-aids to the snake-bitten handy.

It was a lovely starry night, and I determined to sleep on deck. Before turning in I went to have a look at Bo. Having nailed her in a box securely, as I thought, I must have left my cabin door ajar. Anyhow she was gone. She must have braced her back against one side of the box, her feet against the other, and burst it open. I had most certainly underestimated her strength and resources.

The crew, warned of peril, searched the whole schooner over, slowly and methodically, lighted by lanterns. We could not find her. Well, swimming comes natural to snakes.

I went ashore as quickly as I could get a boat manned and rowed. I took Don on a leash, a shot-gun loaded, and both pockets of my jacket full of cartridges. We ran swiftly along the beach, Don and I, and then turned into the grass to make a short cut for Graves’s house. All of a sudden Don began to tremble with eagerness and nuzzle and sniff among the roots of the grass. He was “making game.”

“Good Don,” I said, “good boy–hunt her up! Find her!”

The moon had risen. I saw two figures standing in the porch of Graves’s house. I was about to call to them and warn Graves that Bo was loose and dangerous–when a scream–shrill and frightful–rang in my ears. I saw Graves turn to his bride and catch her in his arms.

When I came up she had collected her senses and was behaving splendidly. While Graves fetched a lantern and water she sat down on the porch, her back against the house, and undid her garter, so that I could pull the stocking off her bitten foot. Her instep, into which Bo’s venomous teeth had sunk, was already swollen and discolored. I slashed the teeth-marks this way and that with my lancet. And Mrs. Graves kept saying: “All right–all right–don’t mind me–do what’s best.”

Don’s leash had wedged between two of the porch planks, and all the time we were working over Mrs. Graves he whined and struggled to get loose.

“Graves,” I said, when we had done what we could, “if your wife begins to seem faint, give her brandy–just a very little–at a time–and–I think we were in time–and for God’s sake don’t ever let her know why she was bitten–or by what—-“

Then I turned and freed Don and took off his leash.

The moonlight was now very white and brilliant. In the sandy path that led from Graves’s porch I saw the print of feet–shaped just like human feet–less than an inch long. I made Don smell them, and said:

“Hunt close, boy! Hunt close!”

Thus hunting, we moved slowly through the grass toward the interior of the island. The scent grew hotter–suddenly Don began to move more stiffly–as if he had the rheumatism–his eyes straight ahead saw something that I could not see–the tip of his tail vibrated furiously–he sank lower and lower–his legs worked more and more stiffly–his head was thrust forward to the full stretch of his neck toward a thick clump of grass. In the act of taking a wary step he came to a dead halt–his right forepaw just clear of the ground. The tip of his tail stopped vibrating. The tail itself stood straight out behind him and became rigid like a bar of iron. I never saw a stancher point.

“Steady, boy!”

I pushed forward the safety of my shot-gun and stood at attention.

“How is she?”

“Seems to be pulling through. I heard you fire both barrels. What luck?”