by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE SERPENT-EATER.
Jan's danger was imminent. He was rushing impetuously forward upon thecoiled serpent. He knew not that it was before him. No warning wouldreach him in time to stay his haste. In another moment he would be onthe narrow path, and then no power could save him from the deadly bite.It would be impossible for him to leap aside or over the reptile, as theantelope had done; for even then Trueey had noticed that the cobra haddarted its long neck several feet upwards. It would be certain to reachlittle Jan, perhaps coil itself around him. Jan would be lost.
For some moments Trueey was speechless. Terror had robbed her of thepower of speech. She could only scream, and fling her arms wildly about.
But these demonstrations, instead of warning Jan of the danger, onlyrendered it the more certain. He connected the cries which Trueey nowuttered with that which had first summoned him. She was in sometrouble--he knew not what; but as she continued to scream, he believedthat something had attacked her. A snake he thought it might be; butwhatever it was, his first impulse was to hurry up to her rescue. Hecould do no good until close to her; and, therefore, he did not think ofhalting until he should reach the spot where she stood.
Her screams, therefore, and the wild gestures that accompanied them,only caused him to run the faster; and as his eyes were bent anxiouslyon Trueey, there was not the slightest hope that he would perceive theserpent until he had either trodden upon it, or felt its fatal bite.
Trueey uttered one last cry of warning, pronouncing at the same time thewords:--
"O, brother! back! The snake! the snake!"
The words were uttered in vain. Jan heard them, but did not comprehendtheir meaning. He heard the word "snake." He was expecting as much. Ithad attacked Trueey; and although he did not see it, it was no doubtwound about her body. He hurried on.
Already he was within six paces of the dread reptile, that had erectedits long spread neck to receive him. Another moment, and its envenomedfangs would pierce deep into his flesh.
With a despairing scream Trueey rushed forward. She hoped to attract themonster upon herself. She would risk her own life to save that of herbrother!
She had got within six feet of the threatening reptile. Jan was aboutthe same distance from it on the opposite side. They were equally inperil; and one or the other--perhaps both--would have fallen a sacrificeto the deadly cobra; but at that moment their saviour was nigh. A darkshadow passed under their eyes--in their ears was a rushing sound likethe "whish" of a falling body--and at the same instant a large birddarted down between them!
It did not stay to alight. For a moment its strong broad wings agitatedthe air in their faces; but the next moment the bird made a suddeneffort, and rose vertically upwards.
Trueey's eyes fell upon the ground. The cobra was no longer there.
With an exclamation of joy she sprang forward, and, throwing her armsaround Jan, cried out,--
"We are saved, brother!--we are saved!"
Jan was somewhat bewildered. As yet he had seen no snake. He had seenthe bird dart down between them; but so adroitly had it seized the cobraand carried it off, that Jan, looking only at Trueey, had not perceivedthe serpent in its beak. He was bewildered and terrified, for he stillfancied that Trueey was in danger.
When he heard her exclaim, "We are saved!" he was bewildered all themore.
"But the snake!" he cried out. "Where is the snake?"
As he put these questions, he kept examining Trueey from head to foot, asif expecting to see a reptile twined around some part of her body.
"The snake, Jan! Did you not see it? It was just there, at our feet; butnow--see! yonder it is. The secretary has got it. See! They arefighting! Good bird! I hope it will punish the villain for trying to robmy pretty weavers. That's it, good bird! Give it to him! See, Jan! Whata fight!"
"Oh, ah!" said Jan, now comprehending the situation. "Oh, ah! Sureenough, yonder is a snake, and a wopper, too. Ne'er fear, Trueey! Trustmy secretary. He'll give the rascal a taste of his claws. There's a lickwell put in! Another touch like that, and there won't be much life leftin the scaly villain. There again,--wop!"
With these and similar exclamations the two children stood watching thefierce conflict that raged between the bird and the reptile.
Now this bird was a very peculiar one--so much so, that in all the worldthere is no other of the same kind. In form it resembled a crane, havingvery long legs, and being about the height and size of a crane. Its headand beak, however, were more like those of an eagle or vulture. It hadwell-developed wings, armed with spurs, and a very long tail, with thetwo middle feathers longer than the rest. Its general colour was bluishgrey, with a white throat and breast, and a reddish tinge upon thewing-feathers. But, perhaps, the most remarkable thing about the birdwas its "crest." This consisted of a number of long, blackish plumesgrowing out of its occiput, and extending down the back of its necknearly to the shoulders. These gave the bird a very peculiar appearance;and the fancied resemblance to a secretary of the olden time with hislong quill behind his ear--before steel pens came into fashion--is thereason why the bird has received the very inappropriate name of the"Secretary-bird."
It is more properly named the "serpent-eater," and naturalists havegiven it the title _Gypogeranus_, or "crane-vulture." It is sometimesalso called "the messenger," from the staid solemn manner of its walk,as it stalks over the plain.
Of all its names that of "serpent-eater" is the best adapted to thecharacter of the bird. It is true there are other birds that kill andeat serpents,--as the "guaco" bird of South America, and many hawks andkites,--but the secretary is the only winged creature that makesreptiles of this class exclusively its prey, and carries on a constantwar against them. It is not strictly correct to say that it feedsexclusively upon snakes. It will also eat lizards, tortoises, and evenlocusts; but snakes are certainly its favourite food, and to obtainthese it risks its life in many a deadly encounter with those of a verylarge kind.
The serpent-eater is an African bird, and is not peculiar to SouthAfrica alone, as it is found in the Gambia country. It is also a nativeof the Philippine Isles. There is some doubt whether the species of thePhilippine Isles is identical with that of Africa. A difference is notedin the plumage, though very slight. The disposition of the crest-plumesdiffers in the two, and the tail-feathers are differently arranged. Inthe African species the two middle ones are the longest, while in theserpent-eater of the Philippines it is the two outside feathers thatproject--giving the bird the appearance of having a "fork" or "swallow"tail. Some points of distinction have also been observed between theSouth African bird and that of the Gambia.
The serpent-eater is, however, a very unique bird; and naturalists,failing to class it with either hawks, eagles, vultures, gallinae, orcranes, have elevated it, so as to form a distinct tribe, family, genus,and species, of itself.
In South Africa it frequents the great plains and dry karoos, stalkingabout in search of its prey. It is not gregarious, but lives solitary orin pairs, making its nest in trees,--usually those of a thick thornyspecies, which renders the nest most difficult of approach. The wholeedifice is about three feet in diameter, and resembles the nests of thetree-building eagles. It is usually lined with feathers and down, andtwo or three eggs are the number deposited for a single hatching.
The serpent-eater is an excellent runner, and spends more time on footthan on the wing. It is a shy wary bird, yet, notwithstanding, it ismost easily domesticated; and it is not uncommon to see them about thehouses of the Cape farmers, where they are kept as pets, on account oftheir usefulness in destroying snakes, lizards, and other vermin. Theyhave been long ago introduced into the French West India Islands, andnaturalised there--in order that they should make war upon the dangerous"yellow serpent," the plague of the plantations in those parts.
Now the bird which had so opportunely appeared between Jan and Trueey,and had no doubt saved one or the other, or both, from the deadly biteof the _spuugh-slang_, wa
s a serpent-eater,--one that had been tamed,and that made its home among the branches of the great nwana-tree. Thehunters had found it upon the plain, wounded by some animal,--perhaps avery large snake,--and had brought it home as a curiosity. In time itquite recovered from its wounds; but the kindness it had received,during the period when it was an invalid, was not thrown away upon it.When it recovered the use of its wings, it refused to leave the societyof its protectors, but remained habitually in the camp--although it madefrequent excursions into the surrounding plains in search of itsfavourite food. It always, however, returned at night, and roosted amongthe branches of the great nwana-tree. Of course it was Jan's pet, andJan was very good to it; but it now repaid all his kindness in savinghim from the fangs of the deadly cobra.
The children, having recovered from their alarm, stood watching thesingular conflict between serpent and serpent-eater.
On first seizing the reptile, the bird had caught it by the neck in itsbeak. It might not have accomplished this so readily, had not theattention of the snake been occupied by the children, thus throwing itoff its guard.
Having succeeded in seizing the reptile, the bird rose nearly in avertical direction to a height of many yards, and then opening his beakpermitted the serpent to fall to the ground. His object was to stun thelatter by the fall; and the more effectually to do this, he would havecarried the cobra still higher, had not the latter prevented it byattempting to coil itself around his wings.
Upon letting fall his prey the serpent-eater did not remain in the air.On the contrary, he darted after the falling reptile, and the moment thelatter touched the ground, and before it could put itself in an attitudeof defence, the bird "pounced" upon it with spread foot, striking it aviolent blow near the neck. The snake was still but slightly damaged,and throwing itself into a coil stood upon its defence. Its mouth wasopen to its widest extent, its tongue protruded, its fangs were erect,and its eyes flashing with rage and poison. A terrible antagonist itappeared, and for a moment the secretary seemed to think so, as he stoodon the ground confronting it.
But the bird soon began to advance upon it for a renewal of the attack,though this advance was made in a cautious manner. With the pinions ofone of his strong wings spread broadly out for a shield, he approachedthe reptile sideways, and, when near enough, suddenly wheeled, turningupon his leg as on a pivot, and struck sharply out with his other wing.The blow was delivered with good effect. It reached the head of thesnake, and seemed to stun it. Its neck dropped, the coils becameloosened. Before it could recover itself it was once more in the beak ofthe serpent-eater, and trailing through the air.
This time the bird rose to a much greater height than before--as he wasnot hampered by the writhing of the serpent--and as before suffered thereptile to fall, and then darted suddenly after.
When the snake came to the ground a second time it lay for a momentstretched at full length, as if stunned or dead. It was not dead,however, and would once more have coiled itself; but, before it could doso, the bird had repeatedly pounced upon its neck with his spread andhorny feet; and at length, watching his opportunity when the head of theserpent lay flat, he struck a blow with his sharp beak so violent, thatit split the skull of the reptile in twain! Life was now extinct, andthe hideous form, extended to its full length, lay lithe and motionlessupon the grass.
Jan and Trueey clapped their hands, and uttered exclamations of joy.
The serpent-eater took no heed of their demonstrations, but, approachingthe dead cobra, bent over it, and coolly set about making his dinner.