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Men, Women, and Boats by Stephen Crane
Book, page 131 / 155


centuries. This was another detail of a war that had begun evidently
when first there were men and snakes. Individuals who do not participate
in this strife incur the investigations of scientists. Once there was a
man and a snake who were friends, and at the end, the man lay dead with
the marks of the snake's caress just over his East Indian heart. In the
formation of devices, hideous and horrible, Nature reached her supreme
point in the making of the snake, so that priests who really paint hell
well fill it with snakes instead of fire. The curving forms, these
scintillant coloring create at once, upon sight, more relentless
animosities than do shake barbaric tribes. To be born a snake is to be
thrust into a place a-swarm with formidable foes. To gain an
appreciation of it, view hell as pictured by priests who are really
skilful.

As for this snake in the pathway, there was a double curve some inches
back of its head, which, merely by the potency of its lines, made the
man feel with tenfold eloquence the touch of the death-fingers at the
nape of his neck. The reptile's head was waving slowly from side to side
and its hot eyes flashed like little murder-lights. Always in the air
was the dry, shrill whistling of the rattles.

"Beware! Beware! Beware!"

The man made a preliminary feint with his stick. Instantly the snake's
heavy head and neck were bended back on the double curve and instantly
the snake's body shot forward in a low, strait, hard spring. The man
jumped with a convulsive chatter and swung his stick. The blind,
sweeping blow fell upon the snake's head and hurled him so that steel-
colored plates were for a moment uppermost. But he rallied swiftly,
agilely, and again the head and neck bended back to the double curve,
and the steaming, wide-open mouth made its desperate effort to reach its
enemy. This attack, it could be seen, was despairing, but it was
nevertheless impetuous, gallant, ferocious, of the same quality as the
charge of the lone chief when the walls of white faces close upon him in
the mountains. The stick swung unerringly again, and the snake,
mutilated, torn, whirled himself into the last coil.

And now the man went sheer raving mad from the emotions of his
forefathers and from his own. He came to close quarters. He gripped the
stick with his two hands and made it speed like a flail. The snake,

 
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