boys at the Explorer’s Club were just going to
eat this right up.
***
They
were lucky enough not to have to sleep in the tents, on the
riverbank, scrounging for meals and begging for scraps.
With
Uncle’s credit quickly established, a stroke of luck there, (in his
words), they had installed themselves on the second floor of a
relatively clean little place a couple of blocks back from the
water. The cat came and went by night, leaping from the balcony
into unknown peregrinations. There were plenty of low rooftops and
shade trees right across the alley.
After
sleeping in the jungle, always waking up before dawn, Jeremy was
enjoying a nice lie-in, in that dreamy fog-state that comes just
before true consciousness.
… that cat really grew on you…he couldn’t really deny
that… snork.
A
pounding at the door had his heart racing, and he sat bolt upright
in bed as excited voices called out for Doctor Harry.
“ Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”
Throwing
aside the mosquito netting, wearing nothing but his boxer-shorts,
he opened the door to see a dozen natives of all shapes, sizes and
ages.
“ Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”
“ Just down the hall—”
Of
course they didn’t understand.
His
uncle’s door was already open and the man himself came striding
out, tying the belt on his dressing gown, bare feet incongruously
pale compared to the sunburned face and neck, and all veined in
blue.
All of
them were talking at once.
“ Serpiente serpiente,” and
gesticulating wildly.
Luckily,
at least one of them spoke a little more Spanish than just that.
They also knew he had money—
His
uncle turned to Jeremy, as Mister Day and Melody O’Dell came out of
their rooms in various states of sleeping attire.
“ Get dressed. We’re going to see a snake. A really, really big
one.”
“ Whoa.” What else could you say,
really.
The sun
wasn’t even up yet.
Act Three
A small
procession, natives, Europeans, and a local white man who was said
to know the local native language pretty well, went down to the
river and boarded a trio of long, out-rigged canoes. They proceeded
to paddle up the river, each of them with their own thoughts and
their own hopes and fears.
A mile
or two upriver, on the left bank, appeared one of the ubiquitous
encampments. More naked and half-dressed children clustered on the
riverbank. The headman appeared, along with a half a dozen young
men, a couple of them armed with rusting old shotguns, and most of
them with machetes. A couple of the younger boys had skinny little
spears, bent as usual. The spears were meant for poking rather than
throwing, was the basic conclusion.
The
headman smiled a gap-toothed smile, looking distinctly odd in a set
of steel-rimmed glasses. He waved happily, sensing reward possibly,
or just some good old-fashioned entertainment. The boats rammed
ashore and willing hands steadied them, young men coming into the
shallows to assist the lady and the doctor. Uncle Harry strode up
the bank, with the interpreter in tow.
“ Right. Now, where’s this bloody snake?”
Jabber-jabber-jabber…
“ This way, Señor.”
The
younger ones were running and the sounds of a crowd came from up
ahead.
“ Good Lord.”
Bloated
with its recent meal, the snake was huge—with a telltale bulge
right in the midsection. It was difficult to tell how big it
was.
It was a
jaw-dropping sight. Someone had had some foresight. They’d grabbed
a rope and somehow gotten a loop over its head, tied tightly to the
nearest big tree. That must have taken some real guts. Confused,
choking, eventually exhausted and unable to escape, the animal had
curled up in a mass of angry toils at the base of the
tree.
“ Oh, that poor thing.” Melody had her hands up over her mouth
as Mister Day strode forward, gun-hand extended.
She
screamed when he began firing and the rest of the people were going
mad. Why they hadn’t already killed it was a good
question—
Day
fired seven
eat this right up.
***
They
were lucky enough not to have to sleep in the tents, on the
riverbank, scrounging for meals and begging for scraps.
With
Uncle’s credit quickly established, a stroke of luck there, (in his
words), they had installed themselves on the second floor of a
relatively clean little place a couple of blocks back from the
water. The cat came and went by night, leaping from the balcony
into unknown peregrinations. There were plenty of low rooftops and
shade trees right across the alley.
After
sleeping in the jungle, always waking up before dawn, Jeremy was
enjoying a nice lie-in, in that dreamy fog-state that comes just
before true consciousness.
… that cat really grew on you…he couldn’t really deny
that… snork.
A
pounding at the door had his heart racing, and he sat bolt upright
in bed as excited voices called out for Doctor Harry.
“ Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”
Throwing
aside the mosquito netting, wearing nothing but his boxer-shorts,
he opened the door to see a dozen natives of all shapes, sizes and
ages.
“ Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”
“ Just down the hall—”
Of
course they didn’t understand.
His
uncle’s door was already open and the man himself came striding
out, tying the belt on his dressing gown, bare feet incongruously
pale compared to the sunburned face and neck, and all veined in
blue.
All of
them were talking at once.
“ Serpiente serpiente,” and
gesticulating wildly.
Luckily,
at least one of them spoke a little more Spanish than just that.
They also knew he had money—
His
uncle turned to Jeremy, as Mister Day and Melody O’Dell came out of
their rooms in various states of sleeping attire.
“ Get dressed. We’re going to see a snake. A really, really big
one.”
“ Whoa.” What else could you say,
really.
The sun
wasn’t even up yet.
Act Three
A small
procession, natives, Europeans, and a local white man who was said
to know the local native language pretty well, went down to the
river and boarded a trio of long, out-rigged canoes. They proceeded
to paddle up the river, each of them with their own thoughts and
their own hopes and fears.
A mile
or two upriver, on the left bank, appeared one of the ubiquitous
encampments. More naked and half-dressed children clustered on the
riverbank. The headman appeared, along with a half a dozen young
men, a couple of them armed with rusting old shotguns, and most of
them with machetes. A couple of the younger boys had skinny little
spears, bent as usual. The spears were meant for poking rather than
throwing, was the basic conclusion.
The
headman smiled a gap-toothed smile, looking distinctly odd in a set
of steel-rimmed glasses. He waved happily, sensing reward possibly,
or just some good old-fashioned entertainment. The boats rammed
ashore and willing hands steadied them, young men coming into the
shallows to assist the lady and the doctor. Uncle Harry strode up
the bank, with the interpreter in tow.
“ Right. Now, where’s this bloody snake?”
Jabber-jabber-jabber…
“ This way, Señor.”
The
younger ones were running and the sounds of a crowd came from up
ahead.
“ Good Lord.”
Bloated
with its recent meal, the snake was huge—with a telltale bulge
right in the midsection. It was difficult to tell how big it
was.
It was a
jaw-dropping sight. Someone had had some foresight. They’d grabbed
a rope and somehow gotten a loop over its head, tied tightly to the
nearest big tree. That must have taken some real guts. Confused,
choking, eventually exhausted and unable to escape, the animal had
curled up in a mass of angry toils at the base of the
tree.
“ Oh, that poor thing.” Melody had her hands up over her mouth
as Mister Day strode forward, gun-hand extended.
She
screamed when he began firing and the rest of the people were going
mad. Why they hadn’t already killed it was a good
question—
Day
fired seven
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