Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 3Sylvester, Charles Herbert
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Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 3
Sylvester, Charles Herbert
Children's literature; Literature -- Collections
"No, dear child," said I, "only fearfully strong and ferocious. And it
has no need to tear the flesh from the bones. It swallows them, skin,
hair, and all, and digests everything in its stomach."
"It seems utterly impossible that the broad ribs, the strong legs,
hoofs, and all, should go down that throat," exclaimed Fritz.
"Only see," I replied, "how the monster deals with his victim; closer
and more tightly he curls his crushing folds, the bones give way, he
is kneading him into a shapeless mass. He will soon begin to gorge his
prey, and slowly but surely it will disappear down that distended
maw!"
The mother, with little Franz, found the scene all too horrible, and
hastened into the cave, trembling and distressed.
To the rest of us there seemed a fearful fascination in the dreadful
sight, and we could not move from the spot. I expected that the boa,
before swallowing his prey, would cover it with saliva, to aid in the
operation, although it struck me that its very slender forked tongue
was about the worst possible implement for such a purpose.
It was evident to us, however, that this popular idea was erroneous.
The act of lubricating the mass must have taken place during the
process of swallowing; certainly nothing was applied beforehand.
This wonderful performance lasted from seven in the morning until
noon. When the awkward morsel was entirely swallowed, the serpent lay
stiff, distorted, and apparently insensible along the edge of the
marsh. I felt that now or never was the moment for attack.
Calling on my sons to maintain their courage and presence of mind, I
left our retreat with a feeling of joyous emotion quite new to me, and
approached with rapid steps and leveled gun the outstretched form of
the serpent. Fritz followed me closely.
Jack, somewhat timidly, came several paces behind; while Ernest, after
a little hesitation, remained where he was.
The monster's body was stiff and motionless, which made its rolling
and fiery eyes, and the slow, spasmodic undulations of its tail more
fearful by contrast.
We fired together, and both balls entered the skull; the light of the
eye was extinguished, and the only movement was in the further
extremity of the body, which rolled, writhed, coiled, and lashed from
side to side. Advancing closer, we fired our pistols directly into its
head, a convulsive quiver ran through the mighty frame, and the boa
constrictor lay dead.
As we raised a cry of victory, Jack, desirous of a share in the glory
of conquest, ran close to the creature, firing his pistol into its
side, when he was sent sprawling over and over by a movement of its
tail, excited to a last galvanic effort by the shot.
Being in no way hurt, he speedily recovered his feet, and declared he
had given it its quietus.
"I hope the terrible noise you made just now was the signal of
victory," said my wife, drawing near, with the utmost circumspection,
and holding Franz tightly by the hand. "I was half afraid to come, I
assure you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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