With Force and Arms: A Tale of Love and Salem Witchcraft

by Howard Roger Garis

Glancing along one side of the ravine I observed naught save the dull brown of the shrubs and trees, some of which showed a little green as a forerunner of spring. Then my eyes took in the other side of the glen. I started in sudden fright, for what I saw made me weak-kneed, it was so horrible.

There stood Lucille, with her back against a tree, her soft gray dress contrasting with the deep brown of the bark. She was not looking at me, and I saw that her gaze was directed to a spot on the ground in front of her. Following her glance I saw with terror that the spot was of mottled yellow, brown and white. And then I knew it was not a spot, but a great snake, coiled, and ready to spring.

Its head waved sideways, with a slow, sinuous motion, and the forked tongue ever darted in and out, like a weaver’s shuttle. Lucille, I saw, dared not move. One hand was pressed to her heart, while the other clasped some flowers she had been to the woods to gather; and the blossoms were slowly falling from her nerveless fingers to the ground.

At first I did not know what to do. Move farther I dared not, lest I should startle the reptile, and cause it to strike the fatal blow, that, for some reason, it was delaying.

Had I a musket I might have shot the snake from where I stood, and I thought with regret of the fowling piece I had left at the inn. I had my sword, but it was folly to think of stealing upon the reptile, and trying to kill it with that. Nor was there much chance that any one would pass that way with a gun in time to be of service; for it was getting late, and the glen was seldom visited.

Perhaps it was a few seconds that I stood watching Lucille and the snake, but it seemed an hour. I could see her slender figure beginning to sway, under the baneful influence of the serpent, and I knew that I must act quickly. I half drew my sword in desperation, and then I put it back. For I knew that ere I could cross half the space between Lucille and myself, the snake would strike.

Now, among the Indians that frequently visited Salem, it was one of their feats to throw or cast the knife. They would poise a dagger or scalping blade on the palm of the hand, holding it in place with the thumb. Then they would raise the hand, palm upward. With a sudden movement, strong and swift, they would hurl the weapon from them, casting it unerringly each time. I have seen them bury it to the hilt in a buttonball tree, and in the body of a man, granting that it touched a vital spot, the knife would let life quickly out.

I had practiced this trick until, while not as good at it as the Indians, I had some skill. So, when I put my sword back, I thought of the knife, and I resolved to chance on throwing it at the snake. It was but a chance, for I knew that if the reptile was startled it would strike quickly, and I recognized the species as one whose bite was quick death. But I gripped the knife, and drew it from the sheath.

Slowly I raised the blade above my head. The spotted brown body was drawn back, now, and, as Lucille saw that the serpent was about to spring, a convulsive tremor shook her body. It must be now or never, I thought, and I breathed a prayer that the knife might be speeded on its way.

Then straight and swift I threw, the keen weapon leaving my hand like a shaft of light. On, on it flew, whirling about in the air, but making no sound. As an arrow from the bow it struck the reptile behind its ugly head, and, such was the force of the flying knife, that the steel edge cut through the snake’s neck, and pinned it to the earth, while the spotted body threshed about like a flail among the dried leaves.