Up the Mazaruni for Diamonds

by William La Varre

THAT night Cavan remarked that we were now getting into the big snake district.

“Big snake feller here plenty. Sho’ he scar’ yo’,” said Cavan.

“How long?” I asked.

“Some like a tall tree, some not so much,” said Cavan. And then they discussed the snakes, how they encircle wild boars and other big animals and “squeeze ’em inter a pulp an’ eat ’em.” It was interesting, but I found myself looking out into the jungle and imagining that every branch I could see was a giant snake.

That night I was awakened and felt my hair standing up and quivering and prickling at each root, for, hanging down from the tree in front of me, to which was suspended the foot end of my hammock, was a great snake. I couldn’t stir at first. He lowered his head and swung it about like a pendulum, finally resting it on the foot of my hammock. Then, raising his head, he seemed to see me. In the dim light from a pale moon and a ghastly glow from the coals of our fire I could see the snake’s bright eyes and his tongue darting in and out.

I tried to shout. I tried to look about and see if Lewis was still asleep, to see if he couldn’t help me. I tried to call Jimmy, to see if he was awake, but couldn’t seem to turn my head.

The snake slid further down the tree and glided across my stomach. He was so long that much of him was still draped up the tree and over a limb. He raised his head and opened his jaws, as if laughing at my helplessness, and I thought of many things.

I thought that it was a silly thing to have ventured off into these wilds. I wondered why I had not been satisfied to stay in a white man’s country and not butt into the wild jungles of the Indians. I thought of everyone at home and finally decided that no snake was going to finish me that way without one good struggle. I looked keenly at his neck to decide just where his throat was, located it back of his jaws and, as he lunged at me, I let out a terrific yell and clutched both hands in a life-and-death grip around the neck of the great snake.

He tried to yank away and his strength lifted me upright from the hammock, his whole body quivered. Still I clung on. Then he began to writhe horribly and to thrash about, swaying me this way and that.

In the struggle I fell from the hammock to the ground, still with my deadly grip about that snake’s neck. With my fingers clutched in a death grip about his throat, I felt that I would be better able to defend myself. I must have had this thought during the process of falling, for when I struck the ground with a terrific jolt I found my fingers clutched in the holster of my revolver.