The pain was not a dream; the blood upon my wrist was no illusion. Both
were real. I was bitten by a _rattlesnake_!
Terror-stricken I sprang to my feet; and, with an action altogether
mechanical, passed my hand over the wound, and wiped away the blood. It
was but a trifling puncture, such as might have been made by the point
of a lancet, and only a few drops of blood oozed from it.
Such a wound need not have terrified a child, so far as appearance went;
but I, a man, _was_ terrified, for I knew that that little incision had
been made by a dread instrument--by the envenomed fang of a serpent--and
_in one hour I might be dead_!
My first impulse was to pursue the snake and destroy it; but before I
could act upon that impulse the reptile had escaped beyond my reach. A
hollow log lay near--the trunk of a large tulip-tree, with the
heart-wood decayed and gone. The snake had made for this--no doubt its
haunt--and before I could come up with it, I saw the long slimy body,
with its rhomboid spots, disappear within the dark cavity. Another
"sker-r-rr" reached my ears as it glided out of sight. It seemed a note
of triumph, as if uttered to tantalise me!
The reptile was now beyond my reach, but its destruction would not have
availed me. Its death could not counteract the effect of its poison
already in my veins. I knew that well enough, but for all I would have
killed it, had it been in my power to do so. I felt angry and vengeful.
This was but my first impulse. It suddenly became changed to a feeling
of terror. There was something so weird in the look of the reptile,
something so strange in the manner of its attack and subsequent escape,
that, on losing sight of it, I became suddenly impressed with a sort of
supernatural awe--a belief that the creature was possessed of a fiendish
intelligence!
Under this impression I remained for some moments in a state of
bewilderment.
The sight of the blood, and the stinging sensation of the wound, soon
brought me to my senses again, and admonished me of the necessity of
taking immediate steps to procure an antidote to the poison. But what
antidote?
What knew I of such things? I was but a classical scholar. True, I had
lately given some attention to botanical studies; but my new knowledge
extended only to the _trees_ of the forest, and none of these with which
I was acquainted possessed alexipharmic virtues. I knew nothing of the
herbaceous plants, the milk-worts, and _aristolochias_, that would now
have served me. The woods might have been filled with antidotal
remedies, and I have died in their midst. Yes, I might have lain down
upon a bed of Seneca root, and, amidst terrible convulsions, have
breathed my last breath, without knowing that the rhizome of the humble
plant crushed beneath my body would, in a few short hours, have expelled
the venom from my veins, and given me life and health.
I lost no time in speculating upon such a means of safety. I had but
one thought--and that was to reach Bringiers at the earliest possible
moment. My hopes rested upon Reigart.
I hastily took up my gun; and, plunging once more under the dark shadows
of the cypress-trees, I hurried on with nervous strides. I ran as fast
as my limbs would carry me; but the shock of terror I had experienced
seemed to have enfeebled my whole frame, and my knees knocked against
each other as I went.
On I struggled, regardless of my weakness, regardless of everything but
the thought of reaching Bringiers and Reigart. Over fallen trees,
through dense cane-brakes, through clumps of palmettoes and pawpaw
thickets, I passed, dashing the branches from my path, and lacerating my
skin at every step. Onward, through sluggish rivulets of water, through
tough miry mud, through slimy pools, filled with horrid newts, and the
spawn of the huge _rana pipiens_, whose hoarse loud croak at every step
sounded ominous in my ear. Onward!
"Ho! whither am I going? Where is the path? where the tracks of my
former footsteps? Not here--not there. Good God! I have lost them!--
lost! lost!"
Quick as lightning came these thoughts. I looked around with eager
glances. On every side I scanned the ground. I saw no path, no tracks,
but those I had just made. I saw no marks that I could remember. I had
lost my way. Beyond a doubt I was lost!
A thrill of despair ran through me--the blood curdled cold in my veins
at the thought of my peril.
No wonder. If lost in the forest, then was I lost indeed. A single
hour might be enough. In that time the poison would do its work. I
should be found only by the wolves and vultures. O God!
As if to make my horrid fate appear more certain, I now remembered to
have heard that it was the very season of the year--the hot autumn--when
the venom of the _crotalus_ is most virulent, and does its work in the
shortest period of time. Cases are recorded where in a single hour its
bite has proved fatal.
"Merciful heaven!" thought I, "in another hour I shall be no more!" and
the thought was followed by a groan.
The danger nerved me to renewed efforts. I turned back on my tracks.
It seemed the best thing I could do; for in the gloomy circle around,
there was no point that indicated my approach to the open ground of the
plantations. Not a bit of sky could I discover,--that welcome beacon to
the wood-ranger, denoting the proximity of the clearings. Even the
heaven above was curtained from my view; and when I appealed to it in
prayer, my eyes rested only upon the thick black foliage of the
cypress-trees, with their mournful drapery of _tillandsia_.
I had no choice but to go back, and endeavour to find the path I had
lost, or wander on trusting to mere chance.
I chose the former alternative. Again I broke through the cane-brakes
and palmetto-thickets--again I forded sluggish bayous, and waded across
muddy pools.
I had not proceeded more than a hundred yards on the back track, when
that also became doubtful. I had passed over a reach of ground higher
and drier than the rest. Here no footprints appeared, and I knew not
which way I had taken. I tried in several directions, but could not
discover my way. I became confused, and at length completely
bewildered. Again was I lost!
To have been lost in the forest under ordinary circumstances would have
mattered little,--an hour or two of wandering--perhaps a night spent
under the shade of some tree, with the slight inconvenience of a hungry
stomach. But how very different was my prospect then, with the fearful
thoughts that were pressing upon me! The poison was fast inoculating my
blood. I fancied I already felt it crawling through my veins!
One more struggle to find the clearings!
I rushed on, now guided by chance. I endeavoured to keep in a straight
line, but to no purpose. The huge pyramidal buttresses of the trees, so
characteristic of these _coniferae_, barred my way; and, in passing
around them, I soon lost all knowledge of my direction.
I wandered on, now dragging wearily across the dull ditches, now
floundering through tracts of swamp, or climbing over huge prostrate
logs. In my passage I startled the thousand denizens of the dank
forest, who greeted me with their cries. The qua-bird screamed; the
swamp-owl hooted; the bullfrog uttered his trumpet-note; and the hideous
alligator, horribly bellowing from his gaunt jaws, crawled sulkily out
of my way, at times appearing as if he would turn and assail me!
"Ho! yonder is light!--the sky!"
It was but a small patch of the blue heaven--a disc, not larger than a
dining-plate. But, oh! you cannot understand with what joy I greeted
that bright spot. It was the lighthouse to the lost mariner.
It must be the clearings? Yes, I could see the sun shining through the
trees, and the horizon open as I advanced. No doubt the plantations
were before me. Once there I should soon cross the fields, and reach
the town. I should yet be safe. Reigart would surely know how to
extract the poison, or apply some antidote?
I kept on with bounding heart and straining eyes--on, for the bright
meteor before me.
The blue spot grew larger--other pieces of sky appeared--the forest grew
thinner as I advanced--I was drawing nearer to its verge.
The ground became firmer and drier at every step, and the timber of a
lighter growth. The shapeless cypress "knees" no longer impeded my
progress. I now passed among tulip-trees, dogwoods, and magnolias.
Less densely grew the trunks, lighter and less shadowy became the
foliage above; until at length I pushed through the last selvage of the
underwood, and stood in the open sunshine.
A cry of agony rose upon my lips. It was wrung from me by despair. I
had arrived at my point of starting--I was once more within the glade!
I sought not to go farther. Fatigue, disappointment, and chagrin, had
for the moment paralysed my strength. I staggered forward to a
prostrate trunk,--the very one which sheltered my reptile assassin!--and
sat down in a state of irresolution and bewilderment.
It seemed as though I were destined to die in that lovely glade--amidst
those bright flowers--in the midst of that scene I had so lately
admired, and upon the very spot where I had received my fatal wound!