The Snake

by Stephen Crane

　　Where the path wended across the ridge, the bushes of huckleberry andsweet fern swarmed at it in two curling waves until it was a merewinding line traced through a tangle. There was no interference byclouds, and as the rays of the sun fell full upon the ridge, they calledinto voice innumerable insects which chanted the heat of the summer dayin steady, throbbing, unending chorus.A man and a dog came from the laurel thickets of the valley where thewhite brook brawled with the rocks. They followed the deep line of thepath across the ridges. The dog--a large lemon and white setter--walked,tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels.Suddenly from some unknown and yet near place in advance there came adry, shrill whistling rattle that smote motion instantly from the limbsof the man and the dog. Like the fingers of a sudden death, this soundseemed to touch the man at the nape of the neck, at the top of thespine, and change him, as swift as thought, to a statue of listeninghorror, surprise, rage. The dog, too--the same icy hand was laid uponhim, and he stood crouched and quivering, his jaw dropping, the froth ofterror upon his lips, the light of hatred in his eyes.Slowly the man moved his hands toward the bushes, but his glance did notturn from the place made sinister by the warning rattle. His fingers,unguided, sought for a stick of weight and strength. Presently theyclosed about one that seemed adequate, and holding this weapon poisedbefore him the man moved slowly forward, glaring. The dog with hisnervous nostrils fairly fluttering moved warily, one foot at a time,after his master.But when the man came upon the snake, his body underwent a shock as iffrom a revelation, as if after all he had been ambushed. With a blanchedface, he sprang forward and his breath came in strained gasps, his chestheaving as if he were in the performance of an extraordinary musculartrial. His arm with the stick made a spasmodic, defensive gesture.The snake had apparently been crossing the path in some mystic travelwhen to his sense there came the knowledge of the coming of his foes.The dull vibration perhaps informed him, and he flung his body to facethe danger. He had no knowledge of paths; he had no wit to tell him toslink noiselessly into the bushes. He knew that his implacable enemieswere approaching; no doubt they were seeking him, hunting him. And so hecried his cry, an incredibly swift jangle of tiny bells, as burdenedwith pathos as the hammering upon quaint cymbals by the Chinese at war--for, indeed, it was usually his death-music."Beware! Beware! Beware!"The man and the snake confronted each other. In the man's eyes werehatred and fear. In the snake's eyes were hatred and fear. These enemiesmaneuvered, each preparing to kill. It was to be a battle without mercy.Neither knew of mercy for such a situation. In the man was all the wildstrength of the terror of his ancestors, of his race, of his kind. Adeadly repulsion had been handed from man to man through long dimcenturies. This was another detail of a war that had begun evidentlywhen first there were men and snakes. Individuals who do not participatein this strife incur the investigations of scientists. Once there was aman and a snake who were friends, and at the end, the man lay dead withthe marks of the snake's caress just over his East Indian heart. In theformation of devices, hideous and horrible, Nature reached her supremepoint in the making of the snake, so that priests who really paint hellwell fill it with snakes instead of fire. The curving forms, thesescintillant coloring create at once, upon sight, more relentlessanimosities than do shake barbaric tribes. To be born a snake is to bethrust into a place a-swarm with formidable foes. To gain anappreciation of it, view hell as pictured by priests who are reallyskilful.As for this snake in the pathway, there was a double curve some inchesback of its head, which, merely by the potency of its lines, made theman feel with tenfold eloquence the touch of the death-fingers at thenape of his neck. The reptile's head was waving slowly from side to sideand its hot eyes flashed like little murder-lights. Always in the airwas the dry, shrill whistling of the rattles."Beware! Beware! Beware!"The man made a preliminary feint with his stick. Instantly the snake'sheavy head and neck were bended back on the double curve and instantlythe snake's body shot forward in a low, strait, hard spring. The manjumped 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 itsenemy. This attack, it could be seen, was despairing, but it wasnevertheless impetuous, gallant, ferocious, of the same quality as thecharge of the lone chief when the walls of white faces close upon him inthe 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 hisforefathers and from his own. He came to close quarters. He gripped thestick with his two hands and made it speed like a flail. The snake,tumbling in the anguish of final despair, fought, bit, flung itself uponthis stick which was taking his life.At the end, the man clutched his stick and stood watching in silence.The dog came slowly and with infinite caution stretched his noseforward, sniffing. The hair upon his neck and back moved and ruffled asif a sharp wind was blowing, the last muscular quivers of the snake werecausing the rattles to still sound their treble cry, the shrill, ringingwar chant and hymn of the grave of the thing that faces foes at oncecountless, implacable, and superior."Well, Rover," said the man, turning to the dog with a grin of victory,"we'll carry Mr. Snake home to show the girls."His hands still trembled from the strain of the encounter, but he priedwith his stick under the body of the snake and hoisted the limp thingupon it. He resumed his march along the path, and the dog walkedtranquilly meditative, at his master's heels.