I was destined to witness still further proofs of the wonderful
capabilities of my new acquaintance.
I felt the natural joy of one whose life has been, saved from
destruction--singularly, almost miraculously saved. Like one who has
escaped from drowning, from the field of slaughter, from the very jaws
of death. The reaction was delightful. I felt gratitude, too, for him
who had saved me. I could have embraced my sable companion, black and
fierce as he was, like a brother.
We sat side by side upon the log, and chatted gaily;--gaily as men may
whose future is dark and unsettled. Alas! it was so with both of us.
Mine had been dark for days past; and his--what was his, poor helot?
But even in the gloom of sadness the mind has its moments of joy.
Nature has not allowed that grief may be continuous, and at intervals
the spirit must soar above its sorrows. Such an interval was upon me
then. Joy and gratitude were in my heart. I had grown fond of this
slave,--this runaway slave,--and was for the moment happy in his
companionship.
It was natural our conversation should be of snakes and snake-roots, and
many a strange fact he imparted to me relating to reptile life. A
herpetologist might have envied me the hour I spent upon that log in the
company of Gabriel the Bambarra.
In the midst of our conversation my companion abruptly asked the
question, whether I had killed the snake that had bitten me.
"No," I replied. "It escaped."
"'Scaped, mass'! whar did um go?"
"It took shelter in a hollow log,--the very one on which we are seated."
The eyes of the negro sparkled with delight.
"Dam!" exclaimed he, starting to his feet; "mass' say snake in dis yeer
log? Dam!" he repeated, "if do varmint yeer in dis log, Gabr'l soon
fetch 'im out."
"What! you have no axe?"
"Dis nigga axe no want for dat."
"How, then, can you get at the snake? Do you intend to set fire to the
log?"
"Ho! fire no good. Dat log burn whole month. Fire no good: smoke white
men see,--b'lieve 'im runaway,--den come de blood-dogs. Dis nigga
daren't make no fire."
"How, then?"
"Wait a bit, mass' Edwad, you see. Dis nigga fetch de rattlesnake right
out ob 'im boots. Please, young mass', keep still; don't speak 'bove de
breff: ole varmint, he hear ebbery word."
The black now talked in whispers, as he glided stealthily around the
log. I followed his directions, and remained perfectly "still,"
watching every movement of my singular companion.
Some young reeds of the American bamboo (_Arundo gigantea_) were growing
near. A number of these he cut down with his knife; and then,
sharpening their lower ends, stuck them into the ground, near the end of
the log. He arranged the reeds in such a manner that they stood side by
side, like the strings of a harp, only closer together. He next chose a
small sapling from the thicket, and trimmed it so that nothing remained
but a straight wand with a forked end. With this in one hand, and a
piece of split cane in the other, he placed himself flat along the log,
in such a position that his face was directly over the entrance to the
cavity. He was also close to the row of canes, so that with his
outstretched hand he could conveniently reach them. His arrangements
were now completed, and the "charm" commenced.
Laying aside the forked sapling ready to his hand, he took the piece of
split reed, and drew it backward and forward across the row of upright
canes. This produced a sound which was an exact imitation of the
"skerr" of the rattlesnake; go like, that a person hearing it, without
knowing what caused it, would undoubtedly have mistaken it for the
latter; so like, that the black knew the reptile itself would be
deceived by it! He did not, however, trust to this alone to allure his
victim. Aided by an instrument which he had hastily constructed out of
the lanceolate leaves of the cane, he at the same time imitated the
scream and chatter of the red cardinal (_Loxia cardinalis_), just as
when that bird is engaged in battle, either with a serpent, an opossum,
or some other of its habitual enemies.
The sounds produced were exactly similar to those often heard in the
depths of the American forest, when the dread _crotalus_ plunders the
nest of the Virginian nightingale.
The stratagem proved successful. In a few moments the lozenge-shaped
head of the reptile appeared outside the cavity. Its forking tongue was
protruded at short intervals, and its small dark eyes glittered with
rage. Its rattle could be heard, announcing its determination to take
part in the fray--which it supposed was going on outside.
It had glided out nearly the full length of its body, and seemed to have
discovered the deception, for it was turning round to retreat. But the
_crotalus_ is one of the most sluggish of snakes; and, before it could
get back within the log, the forked sapling descended upon its neck, and
pinned it fast to the ground!
Its body now writhed over the grass in helpless contortions--a
formidable creature to behold. It was a snake of the largest size for
its species, being nearly eight feet in length, and as thick as the
wrist of the Bambarra himself. Even he was astonished at its
proportions; and assured me it was the largest of its kind he had ever
encountered.
I expected to see the black put an end to its struggles at once by
killing it; and I essayed to help him with my gun.
"No, mass'," cried he, in a tone of entreaty, "for luv ob de Ormighty!
don't fire de gun. Mass' forget dat dis poor nigga am runaway."