“Of course, my dear master,” answered Domingos, who, folding his arms, stood by, watching the effect of his treatment. “Some people think one remedy the best, some another. It is wise to try both. The brandy drives, the earth draws the poison forth.”
Oh, how anxiously we watched John’s countenance! No change took place.
Arthur and I went back, lest Ellen might be alarmed at our absence, leaving Domingos, who stood unmoved, in the same attitude as at first, watching his patient. At last Ellen put her head out from under the toldo, and asked when breakfast would be ready, as she and Maria were very hungry.
“What shall we tell her?” asked Arthur.
Just then I looked up, and saw Domingos coming towards us, waving the dead snake in his hand, and John following, walking as briskly as if nothing had been the matter with him.
“A wonderful cure has been wrought,” he exclaimed, as he reached us. “But don’t tell Domingos yet. Finding myself much as usual, I bethought me, as I sat with my leg in the hole, of looking into the reptile’s mouth; and though it has a set of sharp teeth, I could discover no poisonous fangs. I am only sorry that so much good brandy was expended on me, which may be wanted on another occasion.”
We now summoned Ellen, and told her in English what had occurred. Arthur and I having examined the head of the snake, to assure ourselves that John was right, cut it off and threw it into the river, while True breakfasted off the body, which we cooked for him. Domingos did not discover the truth till some time afterwards; and we heard him frequently boasting of the certain cure he knew for snake bites. I cannot, however, say that his remedy would not prove efficacious.
Having made a good breakfast on the agouti, we once more embarked, and glided down the stream.
I have not dwelt much on our anxiety, but, as may be supposed, we felt it greatly, and our conversation could not fail to be subdued and sad. Ellen, however, after her first grief had subdued, did her utmost, dear, good little sister that she was, to cheer our spirits. Often she kept repeating, “I am sure they have escaped! We shall before long find them. Depend on it, papa would not allow himself to be surprised! I have been praying for them ever since we commenced our journey, and I know my prayers will be heard.”
Although I had felt great despondency, I could not help being influenced by Ellen’s hopeful spirit. Still it seemed to me that the probability of our discovering them along the wide-extended banks of the river was but small indeed. They, too, how anxious they must be feeling on our account; for if they had been in danger, as we supposed, they must know we should be subjected to the same. However, I will not dwell longer on this subject, but only again repeat that our parents and our aunt and Fanny were never absent from our thoughts. A light breeze springing up, we hoisted our mat sail, and glided down the river. Nothing could be more delightful. The light air cooled us, and kept off the mosquitoes; and as the nights were bright, had we not been anxious to examine the shore, we agreed that we might have continued our voyage till it was necessary to land and procure food.