Jungle and Stream: or, The Adventures of Two Boys in Siam

"And their heads would be chopped off?"

"Certainly," said Phra coldly. "It would be for every one's good. But don't look like that, Hal; we can't help the stupid people talking foolishly. It does not matter to us."

"But it does," said Harry. "It makes me think that we ought not to stay."

"Nonsense!" cried Phra.

"Are you going to tell your father what the people are saying?"

"No; why should I?"

"I think he ought to know," said Harry.

"I daresay he does know how people talk, but it does not trouble him. They are foolish people who do not know he is the best king we have ever had. Let them talk. There, I am going home now. You keep the football."

CHAPTER XI

THE NAGA'S BITE

Phra had not been gone long before Mr. Kenyon returned from his business down in the port, and in reply to his question, "Anything fresh happened, my boy?" Harry told him what he had heard, watching his father's face intently the while.

"Then you think it is very serious, father?" said Harry.

"Do I, Hal? What makes you say that?"

"You look anxious about it."

"I was not aware that you were studying my face," said Mr. Kenyon, smiling. "Well, it is serious news, and it is not serious, if you can understand that. The words you heard were those of dissatisfied folk, and these exist everywhere. Of course I have long known that the common, ignorant people resent our being here a good deal, especially the followers of the second king, as they call him; but most of the people like us, and I find that they are very eager to deal with me in business, trusting me largely with their goods, and quite content to wait till I choose to pay them. That looks as if we have a good character. Then, as regards our treatment in the place, you have never found any one insulting or offensive to you."

"No, father; every one is smiling and pleasant."

"Of course. You need not trouble yourself about the disagreeable remarks of a couple of malcontents."

These words cheered Harry, whose young imagination had been piling up horrors to come for the dwellers at the palace and the English people who were near.

Two days later, when he was a little higher up the river, a pleasant, musical voice saluted him from the other side of a hedge.

"What! going by without calling? For shame!"

Harry turned through a gate and down a path to where a lady was seated busy over some kind of needlework under a shady tree.

There was something so pleasant in her smile of welcome that the boy eagerly caught at her extended hand, before taking the chair that was pointed out.

"But that's the doctor's," he said.

"Yes, but he is down the river in his boat, seeing some of his patients. Have some fruit, Harry. All that basketful was sent us this morning by one of Duncan's patients."

"How nice! May I take that mangosteen?"

"Take all," said Mrs. Cameron, for she it was. "The people are never tired of sending us great pines and melons. They are so nice and grateful for everything my husband does for them. I used to think it would be very dreadful to come out here amongst all the strange, half-savage people, as I expected they would be."

"But they are not savage," said Harry.

"Savage? No. They are as gentle and nice as can be. They seem to be more afraid of us than we are of them."

Harry feasted his eyes upon the sweet face and form of the graceful English lady, and the sight seemed to bring up something misty and undefined of some one who used to lean over his little bed at night to press her warm lips upon his face, which was brushed by her long, fair hair.

It was a pleasant feeling, but sad as well, for the few moments that the memory stayed.

Then he had to answer questions as to why he had not brought his friend with him, of the games he had been playing, about his excursions; and he was in the midst of his answers when a quick step was heard, and Mrs. Cameron sprang up.

"Here is Duncan," she cried.

"Hullo, Hal!" cried the doctor, entering; "here you are, then! Where's the Prince?"

"He has not been down to-day."

"Oh, then that is why we are honoured with a visit, is it?"

"I – I was not coming to see you to-day, was I, Mrs. Cameron?" said

Harry, colouring.

"No, that is a fact," said the lady. "He was going right by, but I called him in."

"Ah, well, we will forgive you. Stop and have tea with us."

Harry's acceptation showed that he was only too glad, and after the pleasant meal in the verandah, there was an interesting hour to be spent in the doctor's curious compound of surgery, study, and museum, where plenty of fresh insects had to be examined.

Mrs. Cameron displaying a bright, girl-like interest in everything, till called away to give some instructions to her servants.

"How Mrs. Cameron must help you, Doctor!" said Harry. "I did not know that she was so clever at pinning out moths."

"Look here," said the doctor sternly, "have you been saying anything to her about what you told your father you heard said in that boat?"

"Not a word, sir."

"That's right. I'm glad of it; but I was afraid."

"Oh, I shouldn't have thought of telling her."

"I'm glad you have so much discretion, my boy. You see, ladies are easily made nervous; and if my wife had heard all that, she would have been fidgeting about it every time I was away, and of course that is very often."

"You don't think there is any danger, do you?"

"Not the slightest, my boy; the people are all too friendly. It is only a few discontented humbugs who are old-fashioned and object to the King's ways."

"That is what my father says," said Harry.

"And that is what I say, so let's think no more about it."

"There's Phra," cried Harry, starting up, as a long-drawn whistle was heard.

Harry ran out, and was going down to the gate, passing Mrs. Cameron, who was walking back to her seat under the tree; but all of a sudden she stopped short, tottered as if about to fall, and then stood there with a ghastly face as white as her dress.

It was a mere glimpse that the boy obtained, but it was enough to check his hurried race for the gate.

Something was wrong, he could not tell what; but the doctor's wife was evidently in sore trouble, and he turned to go to her help.

"What is the matter, Mrs. Cameron?" he cried; but she made no reply. It was as if she had not heard him speak, and with head averted she stood looking to the left in a singularly strained attitude, like one striving to escape from something horrible, but whose feet were held to the ground.

In his excitement Harry ran round before her and caught her hand in his, to find it icily cold; but she only uttered a gasping sound, and still stared horribly and with convulsed face down to her left.

Very few moments had elapsed from the boy's first taking alarm till he now turned wonderingly to his right to follow the direction of Mrs. Cameron's eyes, and then a horrible chill ran through him, and he felt paralysed and helpless, for there, not six feet away, raised up on the lower part of its body, was one of the most deadly serpents in the world, its grey brown marked scales glistening as it played about in a wavy, undulatory fashion, its so-called hood spread out showing the spectacle-like markings, and its flattened head turned down at right angles to the neck, with the forked tongue playing and flickering in and out through the little opening in its jaws.

The lower part of the creature was partly hidden by the flowers on a dry bed, but the anterior portion rose fully three feet above the plants, and the creature swung itself about and rose and sank as if preparing for a spring upon the fascinated woman; for either from horror or some occult power on the part of the deadly reptile, Mrs. Cameron was perfectly helpless, and promised to be an easy victim to the cobra when it struck.

But Harry's stunned sensation of horror did not last; he stepped back for a moment or two, looking sharply about for a weapon, but looked in vain, for there was nothing near but a small bamboo stool.

It was better than nothing. He caught it up by one leg, and raising it above his shoulder he stepped quickly between Mrs. Cameron and her enemy, prepared to strike with all his might, while the cobra's eyes seemed to burn, and it drew back as if about to spring.

At that moment, released from the influence of the reptile by the interposition of Harry's body, the power of movement returned, and uttering a low, sobbing cry Mrs. Cameron sank slowly to her knees upon the ground, where she crouched, watching the movements of her champion, but not daring to look again at the serpent.

The sobbing cry behind him drew Harry's attention from his enemy for a moment, but only for that space of time. Then he was once more on guard, fully realizing the danger of his position, but so strung up by the emergency that he felt not the slightest fear.

Harry's was but a momentary glance back, but it was an opportunity for the enemy.

Quick as lightning it struck. There was the darting forward as of a spring set free, the stroke and the rebound, and as the reptile was about to strike again Harry delivered his blow, which crushed down the hissing creature with such effect that the next moment it had writhed itself out from among the plants, to lie clear to receive blow after blow from the stool, till the latter flew into fragments, while the cobra twined and twisted and tied itself into knots in its agony, close to the lad's feet.

He did not attempt to shrink away, only looked round for something else to seize as a weapon, and then he stared strangely at Mrs. Cameron, who had sprung up.

"Harry! What is it?" she cried hoarsely. "Did it bite you?"

"Don't know," he said, in a curious, husky voice. "I – I think so; but

I've killed it."

"But where? Show me where?" panted Mrs. Cameron wildly.

For answer Harry drew back the cuff from his right wrist, and held it up.

"There," he said.

Without a moment's hesitation Mrs. Cameron caught the lad's hand and arm and raised it to her lips, sucking the tiny puncture with all her power, and then, as she withdrew her lips for a moment, she shrieked out, —

"Duncan! Duncan! Help, help!" before placing her lips to the bite again.

"What's the matter?" cried Phra, running to them from the gate. "Mrs.

Cameron! Hal! What is it?"

"Snake," said Harry faintly, just as Phra caught sight of the writhing creature, struck at it, and watching his opportunity crushed its head into the ground with his heel, the reptile in its dying agonies twining tightly about his ankle and leg.

Mrs. Cameron took her lips from the wound again, and her lips parted to shriek once more; but her cries had been heard, and the doctor came running down to her side.

There was no need to ask questions – he saw what had happened at a glance, and the dangerous nature of the wound was told by the swollen shape of the snake's neck by Phra's boot.

"Once more," he said to his wife; "then let me."

As Mrs. Cameron pressed her lips to the wound, her husband snatched the thin silk neckerchief Harry wore from his neck, twisted it up into a cord, and tied it as tightly as he could round the lad's arm, just above the elbow-joint.

"Now let me come," he said sharply. "Run in, Mary; fetch basin, sponge, water, and the caustic bottle."

Mrs. Cameron was used to her husband's ways in emergencies, and resigning the patient to his hands she ran off to the house.

"Sit down here, Hal," said Cameron, "and keep a good heart, lad. I daresay we shall take it in time."

As he spoke he pressed the silent lad back into Mrs. Cameron's chair, snatched off the jacket, tore open the shirt-sleeve, and then drew out his pocket-book, from which he took a lancet.

With this he scarified the tiny wound, making it bleed freely, before placing his lips to it and trying to draw the poison away again and again, while Phra stood close by, his face of a livid hue, and making no offer of help on account of his position.

For the serpent was still twined tightly about his ankle and leg, and he felt sure that if he released the head from beneath his foot, the reptile would strike again.

By this time Mrs. Cameron was back with the various articles required, and she knelt down with the basin in her lap as the doctor took a little wide-mouthed bottle from her hand, removed the stopper, shook out a tiny stick of white, sugar-looking crystal, and after moistening the end, liberally used it in and about the mouth of the wound.

"Hurt you, my boy?" said Cameron sharply, as Harry lay back, with his eyes tightly closed.

"Horribly," was the reply. "Feels like red-hot iron."

"Do you good, boy. Act like a stimulus. Now, can you walk indoors?"

"I think so."

"One moment. You, Phra, run up and tell Mr. Kenyon to come here directly."

"No, no," cried Harry; "don't do that. It would frighten him."

"He must be told, Hal, my lad. Go, Phra."

The boy addressed pointed to his foot.

"If I let its head go, it will sting," he said.

"Oh, I see," said the doctor coolly, and taking a knife from his pocket, he opened it, bent down, and with one cut passed the knife blade through the cobra's neck, with the result that the long, lithe body was set free, as if it had been held in its place by the position of the head, and Phra's leg was released.

But he took his foot very cautiously off the head, which even then moved, as if still connected with the slowly writhing body, for the jaws opened and shut two or three times, the vitality in the creature being wonderful.

But Phra did not stay to see. He stepped quickly to Harry's side and caught his left hand, to hold it for a moment against his throbbing breast, and then ran off as hard as he could go.

Meanwhile, supported on either side by the doctor and his wife, Harry was led into the former's room, the boy looking rather wild and strange. Here he was seated upon a cane couch, while a draught of ammonia and water was prepared, and held to him to drink.

"Not thirsty," he said, shaking his head.

"Never mind; drink," cried the doctor, and the lad hastily tossed off the contents.

"Nice?" said the doctor, with a smile.

"Horrid; like soap and water," replied Harry. "May I go to sleep?"

"Yes, for a time, if you can."

"But I say, look here, Doctor; when father comes, don't let him be frightened. I'm not going to be very bad, am I?"

"I hope not, Hal. You see, we have taken it in time."

"That's right," said the boy, with a deep sigh, and he closed his eyes at once and let his head subside on the pillow, sinking at once into a kind of stupor, for it was not like sleep.

"Oh, Duncan," whispered Mrs. Cameron, as soon as she felt satisfied that the patient could not hear, "surely he will not die?"

"Not if I can help it, dear," he replied. "That was very brave of you to suck the wound. It may have saved his life."

"Poor, brave, darling boy!" she cried, bursting into a convulsive fit of sobbing, as she sank in her husband's arms, utterly giving way now. "He saved me from the horrible reptile, and was bitten himself."

"Ha! God bless him for it – and spare his life," added the doctor to himself – "that was it, then?"

"Yes, dear," sobbed Mrs. Cameron; "I was going back to take up my work when I heard a rustling sound among the flowers, and looking round I saw the horrible thing dancing and waving itself up and down as they do when a snake-charmer plays to them. I couldn't stir; I couldn't speak. I seemed to be suddenly made rigid; and then it was that Harry saw the state I was in, and came to my help."

"What did he do?" said the doctor, as he tried to calm his wife's hysterical sobs.

"Ran between me and the snake, and struck at it when it darted itself out. It would have bitten me, for it was gradually coming closer to me, and – and – and – oh, it was so dreadful, Duncan dear! I seemed to have no power to move. I knew that if I ran off I should be safe, but I could not stir, only wait as if fixed by the horrible creature's eyes – wait till it darted at and bit me."

"And Harry dashed in between you?"

"Yes, dear. He seized the little bamboo stool, and struck at it. Oh,

Duncan! Duncan! Don't let him die!"

"Let him die, my dear?" said the doctor, drawing in his breath. "Not if my poor knowledge can save him. But I have great hopes that your brave thoughtfulness will have had its effect. Now go and lie down a bit till you have grown calm. This terrible business has unhinged you."

"No, no, dear; let me stay."

"I dare not, my dear. You are weak and hysterical from the shock, and

I must keep the poor boy undisturbed."

"You may trust me, dear," said Mrs. Cameron; "I am better now. There, you see I am mastering my weakness. I will master it, and be quite calm, so as to help you to nurse him and make him well."

"May I trust you?"

"Yes, yes, dear."

"But suppose he is very, very bad?" whispered the doctor.

"I will be quite calm and helpful then. Afterwards I will not answer for myself."

"Then stay," said the doctor, who examined his patient as he lay there, looking strange and completely stupefied.

"Raise him up a little," said the doctor, after he had mixed some more ammonia and water; "I want him to drink this."

Mrs. Cameron's task was easy, and there was no trouble then in getting the patient to drink, till the last spoonful or two, which he thrust away.

"It hurts me to swallow," he muttered, as if to himself – "it hurts me to swallow."

The doctor frowned, as he helped his wife to lower the poor fellow down, and examined the wrist and arm, which were now becoming terribly swollen and blotched.

"Oh, Duncan!" whispered Mrs. Cameron, "can't you do something more?"

"No," he said sadly; "one is fearfully helpless in such a case as this. Everything possible has been done; it is a fight between nature and the poison."

"And there seemed to be no time before I was trying to draw it out of the wound again."

"It is so horribly subtle," said the doctor. "What you did ought to have checked the action, but it is going on. I dread poor Kenyon's coming, and yet I am longing for it. He cannot be long."

"Duncan," whispered Mrs. Cameron, as she laid her hand tenderly upon Harry's forehead, "are you sure that he cannot understand what we say?"

"Quite."

"You said the poison was subtle; will it be long before the effect passes off?"

"No," replied the doctor; "the danger should be quite at an end before an hour is passed. Subtle? Horribly subtle and quick, dear. I have known poor creatures die in a quarter of an hour after being struck. Hist! I can hear Kenyon's steps in the garden. Go to the door and bring him in."

Mrs. Cameron went out softly, but returned with Phra.

"Is Mr. Kenyon coming?"

"He went down the river in his boat, Michael says, and will not be back till evening."

"Tut – tut – tut!" ejaculated the doctor.

"How is he?" whispered Phra.

"Bad; very bad," replied the doctor.

"Oh!" cried Phra, in agony. "But you are curing him, Doctor Cameron?"

"I am doing everything I possibly can, Phra."

"Yes, I know; and you are so clever. It is all right, and he will soon be better."

The doctor groaned, and bent over his patient, exchanging glances with his wife – looks both full of despair.

Phra stepped to the doctor's side, and caught him fiercely by the arm.

"You frighten me," he whispered excitedly. "Don't say he is very bad!"

"Look," said the doctor sadly, and he pointed to the horrible appearance of his young patient's arm. "It is of no use to disguise it, Phra: the poison of these dreadful reptiles is beyond a doctor's skill."

"But do something – do something!" cried Phra angrily. "You are only standing and looking on. You must – you shall do more."

Mrs. Cameron rose and took the lad's hands, drawing them aside.

"Be patient, Phra," she whispered. "My husband is doing everything that is possible."

"But it is so dreadful," cried Phra. "I saw some one die from a snake-bite, and he looked just like that. But there was no doctor then. Can't he do something more?"

Mrs. Cameron shook her head.

"You know how clever and wise he is, Phra. We must trust him. He knows what is best."

Phra groaned, and sank down despairingly in a chair; but he started up again directly.

"Shall I fetch my father? He is very wise about snake-bites. He would come for Hal."

"He could do nothing," said the doctor gravely. "Be silent, please; I am doing everything that is possible."

Phra frowned on hearing the imperative way in which the doctor spoke, but he did not resent it. He merely went on tip-toe to the head of the couch, and knelt down there, watching every movement on Harry's part, though these were few.

From time to time the doctor administered ammonia, but it seemed to have not the slightest effect: the swelling went on; the skin of the boy's arm grew of a livid black; and the mutterings of delirium made the scene more painful.

And so three hours passed away, with no sign of Mr. Kenyon, no token given that the danger was nearly passed.

Every one was indefatigable, striving the best to render Harry's sufferings lighter; but all seemed in vain, and at last, as she read truly the look of despair in her husband's face, every palliative he administered seeming to be useless, Mrs. Cameron, after fighting hard to keep back her grief, threw herself upon her knees by the side of the couch, and burst into a hysterical fit of sobbing.

This was too much for Phra, who, to hide his own feelings, hurried out into the garden, unable as he was to witness Mrs. Cameron's sufferings unmoved.

And now in his utter despair the doctor made no effort to check his wife's loud sobs, feeling as he did that they could do no harm; and after attending to his patient again, he was about to walk to the window to try and think whether there was anything else that he could do, when to his astonishment Harry opened his eyes, stared round vacantly, and said in sharp tones, —

"Yes! What is it? Who called?"

The doctor was at his side in an instant, and caught his hand. "Harry, my lad," he said, "do you know me?"

The boy stared at him strangely, but he had comprehended the question.

"Know you?" he said. "Yes; why shouldn't I know you? What a ridiculous question! But – Here, what is the matter with that lady? Is it – is it – ? My head aches, and I can't think," he added, after looking wonderingly about. "What has been the matter? Doctor Cameron, has some one been ill?"

"Yes, some one has been very ill," said the doctor, laying his cool hand upon the boy's forehead and pressing him back upon the pillow.

"Some one has been very ill! Who is it? Can't be father or Mike. Why am I here? I'm not ill. Here, something hurts me, doctor – something on the wrist. Just look; it hurts so that I can't lift it."

The doctor took hold of the frightfully swollen arm, and made as if examining the injury, saying quietly, —

"Oh, it's only a bite; it will be better soon. I'll put a little olive oil to it. Will you get some, my dear?"

Mrs. Cameron rose from her knees quickly, and hurried out of the room, keeping her head averted so that Harry should not see her face.

He noticed this, and his eyes filled with a wondering look. "I don't understand it," he said. "I'm not at home."

"No," said the doctor quietly. "You are here, at my house."

"Of course; and that was Mrs. Cameron who went out to get the oil, and – "

He stopped short, and looked about him for some moments. Then in a puzzled way: —

"There's something I want to think about, but I can't."

"Don't worry about it, then. Lie still till you can."

"Yes, that will be the best way. Ah! here she is."

Mrs. Cameron was back with the oil, and he made her lips quiver, and she had hard work to keep back her tears, as he said, —

"That's good of you to fetch it. Thank you, Doctor. What was it bit me? One of those big mosquitoes? Ah!"

He uttered a wild cry, and his face grew convulsed with horror.

"What is it, my dear boy?" said the doctor.

"I know now," he said, in a low, passionate, agitated voice. "It has come back. The snake! I was bitten by that snake!"

"Yes, my boy, but the effect is all passing off," said the doctor soothingly.