Hair-Breadth Escapes: The Adventures of Three Boys in South AfricaAdams, H. C. (Henry Cadwallader)
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Hair-Breadth Escapes: The Adventures of Three Boys in South Africa
Adams, H. C. (Henry Cadwallader)
Adventure stories; Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Hunting -- Juvenile fiction; South Africa -- Juvenile fiction
"I see no reason for changing it," replied the surgeon. "I am sure the
river, which Vangelt told me of, cannot be above fifteen miles off at
the outside, and when we are once there, it is all, comparatively
speaking, plain sailing. I don't know how far this kind of country may
last, but I feel sure it cannot be for any great distance.
Notwithstanding yesterday's experience, I don't advise our taking water
with us, or anything but a few slices of meat I am persuaded that we
shall not suffer a second time, as we did yesterday; and carrying water
always hampers travellers terribly."
All readily gave their assent to his suggestions, and before six o'clock
the travellers were again in motion. They journeyed on for several
miles, the bare rocks and sand still continuing the main features of the
landscape: but about twelve o'clock their eyes were relieved by the
appearance of wooded slopes in the distance. Presently they came to a
small pool, surrounded by a grove of oomahaamas and acacias, among the
branches of which they noticed a quantity of grey-crested parrots, which
kept up an incessant screaming, from the moment the travellers came in
sight to that of their departure.
"Here's a good place for a halt," suggested Ernest. "This shade is most
refreshing, and the water seems clear and cool."
"I am quite of your mind, Ernest," said Nick, flinging himself at full
length on the grass at the edge of the pool. "Exhausted nature can't go
further without a respite. Now, if any one would be so good as to shoot
two or three of those parrots, that are actually crying out to be shot,
they would make a famous--What are you up to now, man?" he added
sharply, as he felt a sudden blow on his shin. "You would do well to
take care what you are doing."
"_You_ would do well to take care," retorted Warley. "Do you see what
was crawling up your leg?" He held up, as he spoke, a dead snake about
eighteen inches long, with a curious-looking horn on either side of its
head. "If I hadn't hit him on the neck the moment I saw him, he'd have
bitten your hand to a certainty. He was making straight for it."
"A snake!" cried Nick, starting up in horror. "So there is, I declare.
The nasty brute! I don't know whether it is venomous or not, but I'm
much obliged, even if it isn't. They are not nice things up a fellow's
leg!"
"Hand him over here," said Charles Lavie. "Oh ay, I know this fellow.
He is called the cerastes, and is venomous, I believe, though not one of
the worst kinds of poisonous snakes. You are well out of it, Nick, I
can tell you, and must look more carefully about you in this country
before you sit down in a place like this. Some of the reptiles are so
nearly the colour of the ground, or the trees, that even an old stager
may be taken in."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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