"That's it, sir, ain't it?" Plunkett ventured to ask.
"Well, no—not precisely 'it'," responded the General. "There is a widespread delusion afloat on the subject, and snakes are popularly said to 'sting.' The tongue, however, is perfectly harmless, though I grant that it has a vicious look."
"And wouldn't a man die of that creature's sting?" asked Plunkett, privately holding to his own view.
"Of its bite certainly, for the cobra is a deadly snake. But the mischief is in the teeth, not in the tongue. He has poison fangs,—sharp hollow teeth, each with a little bag of virulent poison at its root. If he could strike at you, and bite you, one tiny drop of that poison getting into the wound would be enough to put a quick end to your life. Sometimes the poison fangs are taken away from a living snake; and then, though he has the forked tongue still, he is powerless to injure anybody."
"Could that other big snake swallow a man, sir?" asked Marigold shyly; for she, like Narcissus, felt sceptical on the subject.
"The boa yonder? No! He might manage to get down something rather bigger than a rabbit, possibly. Boa constrictors do exist big enough to swallow a man, or even an ox; but these are comparatively small specimens. Not that you would enjoy a squeeze, even from them," added the General, smiling, as he again passed on.
"Well, I suppose he knows," said Plunkett dubiously.
"Why, father, he has been in India for years and years," said Marigold.
Plunkett rather objected to being found out in a mistake. He turned to other subjects, and soon led the girls away from the snakes.
Time passed more quickly than any of them knew; and though they meant to be home early, it was considerably past ten before they really did arrive. Mrs. Plunkett was still up. This they expected, and they expected also to find her crouching over the kitchen fire, peevish and unhappy. Instead of which she sat at the table, needlework in hand, and opposite to her sat a big fresh-faced young man, apparently doing his best to make himself agreeable.