“It’s sartain, sir, that the tiger can’t,” replied the old sailor. “You see, beside his having that nip, he was kept
underneath long enough to drown him and all his relations. As to the sarpent—oh yes, he may live. It’s wonderful what a good doctor Nature is. I’ve seen animals so torn about that you’d think they must die, get well by giving themselves a good lick now and then, and twisting up and going to sleep. Savages, too, after being badly wounded, get well at a wonderful rate out here without a doctor. But now let’s see what the river’s doing.”
He bent down and examined the trunk of the tree, and came to the conclusion that the flood was about stationary; and as all danger of its rising seemed to be at an end, Shaddy set to work with his knife, lopping off branches, and cutting boughs to act as poles to lay across and across in the fork of the tree, upon which he laid an abundance of the smaller stuff, and by degrees formed a fairly level platform, upon which he persuaded Brazier and Rob to lie down.
“I’ll keep watch,” he said, “and as soon as you are rested I’ll have my spell below.”
They were so utterly wearied out that they gladly fell in with the old sailor’s plan, and dropped off almost as soon as they had stretched themselves upon the boughs.