As he spoke he drew his knife from his girdle. “Lawrence effendi,” he said quickly, “has it bitten you?”
The lad looked at him wildly, and his voice was a mere whisper as he faltered:
“I do not know.”
“Tell me,” cried Yussuf, “have you tight hold of it by the head?”
There was a pause, and Lawrence’s eyes seemed fixed and staring, but at last he spoke.
“Yes.”
Only that word; and as the others looked on, Yussuf caught Lawrence’s right hand in his left, and compressed it more tightly on the asp’s head.
“There, effendi,” he said as he stood ready with his keen bare knife in his right hand, “the serpent is harmless now. Take hold of it by the tail, and unwind it from his wrist.”
A momentary repugnance thrilled Mr Preston. Then he seized the little reptile, and proceeded to untwine it from its constriction of Lawrence’s wrist.
It seemed a little thing to do, but it was surprising how tightly it clung, and undulated, contracting itself, but all in vain, for Mr Preston tore it off and held it out as straight as he could get the heaving body, encouraged in his efforts by Yussuf’s declaration that the head was safe.