“I’m gwine git dat snake first, son. You set still till I call you.”
Day was coming. Tree branches overhead talked softly to one another. Leaves brought down by the wind fell rustling. Birds chirped and twittered. Squirrels barked. Breeze’s blood drummed in his temples.
The forest around them was old and great, most of the trees gums or poplars, with an occasional pine appearing. The undergrowth crowded close together, twining and tangling with limbs and branches so dense the light could scarcely reach the ground.
April found a dogwood tree and cut a long forked stick, then he moved slowly, stealthily, in the direction of the smell. Breeze thought his heart would stop beating altogether, so great was his terror. If that snake struck April and killed him, how’d he ever get home himself? He didn’t know the way. His hands thrust deeper into his pockets and one felt his knife. Uncle’s directions for helping a snake-bitten person came to him. Cut the wound wide open and suck out the poison. Could he do it? Could he cut April’s flesh and suck his blood? He’d have to, if it came to the worst.
April thrashed about in the undergrowth with his long forked stick, calling out as he did so, “Whe’ is you, snake? Hurry up an’ rattle! I wan’ git you!”
When a clear dry rattle sang out, he laughed. “Now we’ll see who’s de best man, me or you! Breeze, git you’ pocket knife! Cut a shell open! Have it ready so if I miss an’ git bit you kin pour de powder in de bite an’ set em afire. I got a box o’ matches here in my pocket. You better take ’em. You understand, enty? Burnin’ de pizen out is better’n suckin’ it out. Fire kin fight em stronger’n you’ mouth.”
The thick-bodied, large-headed snake was coiled, ready to strike. The rattles on the end of its tail raised and shook angrily. But instead of dread, April showed a fierce pleasure in the dry ear-splitting whir. Breeze’s throat went dry, but April laughed.
“You’s too slow, you pided devil! Summer’s gone! I kin kill you easy as Breeze kills a chicken! Lawd! you is old! You’ rattles looks like a cow’s horn. Come on!”
He batted the snake’s head to one side with a deft blow, and, putting the stick’s fork over its neck, held it fast to the ground, until he could seize it below the throat in a steady powerful grip. As he lifted it up off the ground, the thick body wound wildly around his arm in a terrible struggle to wrench loose, the flat eyes glared, the wide mouth yawned. April stood firm as a tree.
“Fight, boy, fight! Stretch you’ mouth wide as you kin! Dat ain’ wide enough yet! I want to spit clean down in your belly! Show you’ fangs! Dey ain’ nuttin! I got blue gums too! You may as well stand still and pray! You’ time is out! You gwine meet you’ Gawd to-day!”