Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East

by George Manville Fenn

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.