SICK IN A STRANGE LAND.—ADVENTURE WITH A SNAKE.—HOW A SQUIRREL WAS
CHARMED.
I was in the forest, under a large tree, very ill. I had been sick with
a fever for some weeks, and all the medicine I had taken seemed to do me
no good. Little by little my strength gave way. The days and the nights
seemed so long! I am sure that if you had seen me you would have pitied
me. There I was in that great forest, which was full of wild men and
still wilder beasts. How helpless, how sad, how lonely I felt!
The hand of death was close upon me. Looking at myself in the
looking-glass, the sunken and pallid cheeks told how much I had
suffered. My eyes grew dim, and I began to realize that soon my days
were to be ended, and that I was to die in that desert place, far away
from home and friends, and that the wild beasts of the woods would come
and devour me.
My bed was made of leaves, my pillow was the branch of a tree. Instead
of blankets I had two fires, but I was so burning hot the greater part
of the time with fever that I cared not for these. Close to me lay my
little Bible, on my small and now almost empty medicine chest, but I
could only look at it, for I could not read any more; there were a few
books also, and a few old newspapers from New York.
Over my bed was a covering of leaves to protect me from the rains.
At last I was too feeble to rise and quench my thirst in the little
stream near where my camp was made, or to go there and bathe my burning
head. So the kind women got water and bathed my head. I could not eat,
for I had nothing. At times I thought that if I could only have a little
piece of dry bread, how much I should relish it! I could bear the
plantains and the wild berries and fruits no longer. There were days
when I felt so lonely, so wretched, so poor, so helpless, that the tears
rolled down my cheeks. The days of my boyhood came back before me, for
they had been happy days. Then, instead of a piece of wood, I had a soft
pillow to lay my head upon; then there were gentle hands that caressed
me when I was sick. Where was that cosy little bed now? What a contrast!
I thought of the friends of my youth—of little Lucy, of Julia, and
Laura, and Jessie. What had become of beautiful little Lottie, with her
fair hair, and of charming little Maggie, with her dark hair? What
friends we had once been! Lottie had been like a sister to me. I
wondered if they thought sometimes of me, or if some of them might have
gone to heaven. What had become of them? I knew that, if they were by,
they would take care of “little Paul,” as they used to call me.
I remembered the ladies that were so kind to me when I had no mother to
care for me; I knew that if I had any thing good and amiable in my
nature they had taught it to me.
[Sidenote: _REMEMBRANCES._]
Where were all my playmates? How we would have laughed if any one had
said that little Du Chaillu would one day go into unknown countries,
where no white man had been before, and there spend the best days of his
life, and be, as his fathers of old were, a _chevalier errant_.
I remembered my two tiny little black ponies which my father had given
me, and how kind he had been to me, and I also remembered my good nurse
Rosee. My heart was sore and heavy, and I could not help thinking of the
happy days gone by; for I was but three-and-twenty, with the world still
bright before me, when I was thus sick and lonely.
The stars peered through the dark foliage of the forest trees. How
beautiful and bright they looked, reminding me of the heavens whither
our spirits go! I thought of my mother, and where she might be, and
wondered if she could see me as I lay alone in that dark forest under
the big tree. I remember how I said, Oh, my mother, my heart is sore and
weary, I want to come to thee!
Such were often my thoughts when lying so ill under the big tree. I knew
not if I should see the morrow. So I prayed God to care for me.
One day, after feeling so sad, I went to sleep; when I awoke my Bakalai
men had returned from the hunt and were watching over me, and I felt
relieved. God had taken care of me. Days went by, and I regained slowly
my strength; my men went out hunting and brought me game, the women of
the country went out fishing and brought me fish, the people brought me
food. None of them wanted their Ntangani to die. They were all kind to
me in that far country where they might have killed and plundered me.
I shall always remember Quengueza. I do love old Quengueza; nor shall I
ever forget old Anguilai, the Bakalai chief who, when I was so ill, gave
the only goat he had for me to eat, to make me strong, he said. It was
the goat that he had laid by for a wife.
Good Obindji was not behindhand in kindness, and I shall never forget
friends Querlaouen and Malaouen, and I often hope that we may meet
again. I wish they could know that I often think of them, and that I
have a heart full of gratitude for all their kindness to me.
I began now to get stronger and stronger, and was soon able to go about
with my gun. How glad I was to be again able to shoot gorillas, and make
collections of curious animals and birds to bring with me to New York
and show them to my friends and tell them how hard I had worked to
collect them!
I shall never forget that, one day as I lay ill under that big tree, I
spied an enormous snake folded among the branches of another tree not
far off from me. My attention had been drawn to that tree by the cries
of a squirrel. I wished some of my men had been with me to kill it, so
that I might have something nice to eat, though I was not very hungry;
but there was no man with me, only three women who were taking care of
me. I was not strong enough to take my gun. I was so weak that I did not
mind having the snake so close to me.
I will tell you what that squirrel and that snake were doing.
The snake was charming the poor little squirrel. How nice the squirrel
was! how beautiful his little tail! how black and bright seemed his
little eyes! His little feet were moving onward toward the snake; his
little tail was up, and he chippered as he advanced toward certain
death.
[Illustration: CHARMING THE SQUIRREL.]
[Sidenote: _THE SNAKE AND THE SQUIRREL._]
The snake was still as death, not one of his folds could have been seen
moving. How black and shiny the ugly creature was, and what a contrast
with the green leaves of the trees! Part of his body was coiled on a
limb of the tree. How fixedly he looked at the squirrel! His head was
triangular, and he belonged to that family of snakes that spend the
greatest portion of their time on trees. This was of a very venomous
kind. I wished I had been strong enough to take my gun and kill the
serpent, and so save the life of the little squirrel.
Nearer and nearer the squirrel came; louder and louder were his
chipperings; he tried to run away, but could not. At last he came within
a foot of the snake. There was a pause; then suddenly, like a flash of
lightning, the snake sprung: the poor little squirrel was in the folds
of the ugly reptile, and soon I saw his body gradually disappearing into
its inflated mouth, and the broken silence of the forest resumed its
sway.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]