“Sisters!” she said. “We have all been informed by Lanceolada of the ominous presence of Man. I think I interpret the desire of all of us in trying to save our Empire from enemy invasion. Only one measure will suffice, since experience has taught us that giving up our land does not remedy anything. This measure, you well know, is war against Man, war without truce or quarter, starting from this very night, to which every species will bring its particular virtues. I am proud in this circumstance to abandon my human designation: I am no longer a rattlesnake; I shall be yarará, like all of you. The yararás, who carry death as their black standard. We are death, sisters! Meanwhile, let one of you present propose a battle plan.”
Everyone knows, at least in the Empire of the Vipers, that, although Terrífica is famously equipped in her fangs, she has little enough in her head. She knows it, too, and although she is incapable of conceiving a plan, by dint of being the ancient queen she possesses sufficient tact to remain quiet about it.
Then Cruzada, stretching herself, said, “I agree with Terrífica, but it is my opinion that, as long as we have no plan, we cannot and should not do anything. What I regret is the absence in this Congress of our venomless cousins the Snakes.”
There was a long silence. Evidently the Vipers did not find this proposal too flattering. But Cruzada smiled vaguely and continued, “I regret that what is so is so. . . . But let me simply remind you that if among all of us we tried to kill a snake we would not succeed. I have nothing more to say.”
“If you mean because of their resistance to venom,” Urutú Dorado objected lazily from the depths of the grotto, “I think I alone might disenchant them of that. . . .”
“It isn’t a matter of venom,” Cruzada replied disdainfully. “I could handle that, myself,” she added, with a sideways glance at the yararacusú. “It’s a matter of strength, of their dexterity and nerve, whatever you want to call it. Qualities of battle that no one would attempt to deny our cousins. I insist that in a campaign, such as the one we want to undertake, the Snakes would be very helpful to us—more than helpful, absolutely necessary.”
But the proposition was still unpopular.
“Why Snakes?” Atroz exclaimed. “They’re contemptible.”
“They have fish eyes,” the presumptuous Coatiarita added.
“They make me sick,” Lanceolada protested disdainfully.
“Maybe it’s something else they make you . . . ,” Cruzada murmured, looking at her slyly.
“Me,” Lanceolada hissed, lifting her head haughtily. “I warn you, you cut a sorry figure here defending those wriggling worms!”
“If only our cousins the Hunters could hear you,” Cruzada murmured ironically.
When they heard the name Hunters, every member of the assembly became excited.
“There’s no reason to call them Hunters!” they shouted. “They’re just snakes, that’s all.”
“They call themselves the Hunters!” Cruzada replied wryly. “And we are in Congress.”
From Time Immemorial, the particular rivalry between the two yararás Lanceolada, daughter of the extreme north, and Cruzada, whose habitat extends more toward the south, has been legend among the Vipers—a question of beauty, according to the Snakes.
“Come, come!” Terrífica intervened. “Let Cruzada explain why she wants the assistance of the Snakes, seeing they do not represent Death as we do.”
“For that very reason!” Cruzada replied, calm now. “It is indispensable that we know what Man is doing in the House; and for that, one must go there, to the House itself. Well, that’s not any easy undertaking, because if our standard is that of Death, so is Man’s—death more speedy than our own. Snakes have an enormous advantage over us in agility. Any one of us could go and look. But would she return? Nobody is better suited for this role than Ñacaniná. These explorations are a part of her daily habits. From the roof of the House she could see, hear, and return to inform us about everything before daylight.”
The proposition was so reasonable that this time the entire assembly agreed, although still with a certain residue of unwillingness.
“Who will go to look for her?” several voices asked.
Cruzada unwound her tail from a tree trunk and slipped forward.
“I will go,” she said. “And will return quickly.”
“That’s right,” Lanceolada called after her. “Since you’re her protector, you’ll know just where to find her!”
Cruzada still had time to turn toward her and flash out her tongue—a challenge to be attended to later.
III
Cruzada found Ñacaniná climbing a tree.
“Oh, Ñacaniná!” she called with a light hiss.
Ñacaniná heard her name, but she prudently abstained from answering until she was called a second time.
“Ñacaniná,” Cruzada repeated, raising her hiss a half tone.
“Who’s calling?” the snake responded.
“It is I, Cruzada!”
“Ah, cousin. . . . What do you want, dear adorable cousin?”
“I’m not here to joke, Ñacaniná. . . . Do you know what’s going on in the House?”
“Yes, Man has arrived. . . . What else?”
“And do you know that we’re holding a Congress?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t know that!” Ñacaniná replied, slithering head first down the tree, as sure as if she were moving on a horizontal plane. “In that case something serious must be happening. What is it?”
“For the moment, nothing, but we’ve called a Congress precisely to avoid that anything does happen. In short: several men are known to be in the House, and it’s known they plan to remain indefinitely. That’s Death for us.”
“I thought you were Death for them. . . . You never seem to get tired of saying it!!!” the snake murmured ironically.
“Enough of that! We need your help, Ñacaniná.”
“What for? None of this affects me.”
“You never know. It’s your bad fortune to resemble us, the Venomous Ones. By looking after our interests, you would be looking after your own.”
“Yes, I understand,” Ñacaniná replied after a moment during which she evaluated the number of unfavorable contingencies resulting from her resemblance to the Vipers.
“Well, can we count on you?”
“What do I have to do?”
“Very little. Go immediately to the House and situate yourself there so you can see and hear everything that’s happening.”
“No, that isn’t much,” Ñacaniná replied negligently, rubbing her head against the tree trunk. “But the fact is, I have a sure meal up there. A wild turkey hen took a notion to nest there a couple of days ago.”
“Perhaps you’ll find something to eat at the House,” Cruzada consoled her smoothly. Her cousin looked at her suspiciously. “Well, come on, let’s go. First let’s go by the Congress.”
“Oh, no!” Ñacaniná protested. “Not that. I’ll do you the favor, and gladly. But I’ll come to the Congress when I return . . . , if I return. But to see that Terrífica’s noisy rattles, Lanceolada’s rat eyes, and Coralina’s stupid face before I go . . . ! Oh, no!”
“Coralina isn’t there.”
“That doesn’t matter. There’s enough with the rest of you.”
“All right, all right,” Cruzada didn’t want to press her advantage. “But if you don’t slow down a little I won’t be able to keep up with you.”
In fact, even at top speed the yarará was unable to keep pace with—for her—the relatively slow slithering of the Ñacaniná.
“You wait, you’re near the others,” the snake said. And she darted off at full speed, leaving her venomous cousin behind in a flash.
IV
Fifteen minutes later the Hunter reached her destination. The lights were still on in the House. Through the wide open doors poured streams of light, and even from a distance Ñacaniná could see four men seated around a table.
If she could only avoid contact with
a dog, she could reach her goal safely. Would they have dogs? Ñacaniná feared so. As a result she crept forward with great caution, especially as she approached the veranda.
Once on it, she looked around attentively. No dog in front of her, or to the right or the left. Yes, over there, through the men’s legs she could see a black dog sleeping on his side.
The field, then, was free. She could hear from where she was but not see. She glanced overhead and in a moment had what she desired. She crawled up a ladder leaning against the wall and in a second settled herself in the free space between the wall and the roof and lay stretched across a beam. But, in spite of her precautions, she had dislodged an old nail which fell to the floor, and a man looked up toward the ceiling.
“It’s all over!” Ñacaniná thought, holding her breath.
A second man also looked up. “What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing. I thought I saw something black up there.”
“A rat.”
“Ah, Man makes mistakes,” the snake murmured to herself.
“Or maybe a ñacaniná.”
“But that Man hit the mark!” she hissed, readying herself for battle.
But the men paid no further attention, and for half an hour Ñacaniná watched and heard everything.
V
The House, the reason for the Jungle’s concern, had been converted into a scientific establishment of the greatest importance. The particular abundance of vipers in this corner of the territory had been known for some time, and the National Government had decided to create an Antivenom Institute where serum could be prepared against the venom of vipers. The availability of the vipers was basic to this plan since it is well known that the paucity of vipers from which to extract the venom is the principal impediment to a vast and safe preparation of serum.
The new establishment could be set into operation almost immediately since the men had brought with them two animals, a horse and a mule, already almost completely immunized. They had organized the laboratory and the serpentarium.
The men had brought with them a large number of venomous serpents—those that had served to immunize the animals. Even so, the number of serpents would have to be augmented to an astonishing degree, for if one considers that a horse in the last stages of immunization needs six grams of venom for every injection (a quantity sufficient to kill 250 nonimmunized horses) he will understand that the number of available vipers such an Institute requires is very great indeed.
The work, particularly difficult at first, of organizing an installation in the jungle kept the Institute personnel up half the night making the plans for the laboratory and the rest of the project.
A man wearing dark glasses who seemed to be the chief asked, “And how are the animals today?”
“Not very good,” a second man replied. “If we don’t get a good collection today . . .”
Ñacaniná, motionless on the overhead beam, eyes and ears alert, began to relax. “It seems to me,” she said to herself, “that my venomous cousins are worried over nothing. There’s nothing particular to fear from these men. . . .”
And stretching her head forward so that the point of her nose protruded beyond the beam, she observed even more carefully.
And one misfortune evokes another.
“We had a bad day today,” a third added. “We broke five test tubes. . . .”
Ñacaniná felt more and more inclined to compassion. “Poor men,” she murmured. “They broke five tubes. . . .”
And as she prepared to abandon her hiding place to explore that innocent house, she heard: “On the other hand, the vipers are magnificent. They seem to like it here.”
“Yessss?” the snake shuddered, her tongue flickering. “What did that hairy one in the white suit say?”
The man continued, “This place seems ideal. . . . And we need them urgently for the animals and for ourselves.”
“Fortunately we’ll have fabulous viper hunting around here. There’s no mistaking, this is viper country.”
“Aha . . . , aha . . . , aha . . . ,” Ñacaniná murmured, wrapping herself around the beam as tightly as possible. “Things begin to look a little different. I’d better stay a while longer with these good people. . . . One learns curious things.”
She heard such curious things that when a half hour later she felt it was time to retire, her head was so filled with newly acquired wisdom that she made a false movement and a third of her body dropped from the beam to thump against the wood wall. Since she had fallen headfirst, in an instant her head was pointed directly toward the table, her tongue flashing.
The ñacaniná, which attains a length of three meters, is courageous, certainly the most courageous of our serpents. She resists a serious attack by man, who is infinitely larger than she, by standing her ground. As her own courage makes her believe she is feared, our snake was somewhat surprised to see that the men, realizing what they faced, began to laugh calmly.
“It’s a ñacaniná. . . . Good, she’ll keep the rats out of the house.”
“Rats,” she hissed. And as she held her belligerent stance, one man finally arose.
“No matter how useful she is, she’s still a feisty little devil. . . . One of these nights I’ll find her looking for rats under my bed.” And picking up a nearby pole, he rushed at Ñacaniná. The pole whistled by the intruder’s head and hit the wall with a terrible thwack.
Now there are attacks and attacks. Outside her native jungle, surrounded by four men, Ñacaniná was not pleased with the odds. She quickly retreated, concentrating all her energy on the faculty that along with courage constitutes her other principal attribute—her incredible speed.
Pursued by barking, even tracked for a long while by the dog—which threw still more light on the problem confronting them—the snake reached the cavern. She ignored Lanceolada and Atroz and coiled herself to rest, completely exhausted.
VI
“At last!” they all exclaimed, making a circle around the explorer. “We thought you’d decided to stay with your friends, the Men. . . .”
“Humph!” murmured Ñacaniná.
“What news do you bring us?” Terrífica asked.
“Must we await an attack, or do we pay no attention to the Men?”
“Perhaps that would be better,” Ñacaniná replied. “And move to the other side of the river.”
“What . . . ? What do you mean?” they exploded. “Are you mad?”
“Listen, first.”
“Speak, then!”
And Ñacaniná told them everything she had seen and heard: the installation of the Antivenom Institute, its plans, its goals, and the decision of the men to hunt every viper in the country.
“Hunt us!” exploded Urutú Dorado, Cruzada, and Lanceolada, their pride wounded to the quick. “Kill us, you mean!”
“No, just hunt you. Pen you up, feed you well, and every twenty days extract your venom. Can you imagine an easier life?”
The assembly was stupefied. Ñacaniná had explained very well the use to which the venom collection was to be put, but what she had not explained was how the serum was to be obtained.
“An antivenom serum! That would mean a sure cure, the immunization of Men and animals against our bite, our Family condemned to perish of hunger right in our own native Jungle.”
“Exactly,” Ñacaniná corroborated. “That’s it exactly.”
For Ñacaniná, the danger was not as great. What did it matter to her and her sisters the Hunters, who hunted without fangs, by the strength of their muscles, whether those animals were immunized or not? She saw only one dark fact and that, the excessive similarity of a snake to a viper, a condition propitious for fatal errors. This was the basis for her interest in abolishing the Institute.
“I offer myself to begin the campaign,” said Cruzada.
“Do you have a plan?” Terrífica, always short on ideas, asked anxiously.
“No plan. I will simply go out tomorrow afternoon hoping to come across one of the
Men.”
“Be careful!” said Ñacaniná persuasively. “There are several empty cages. Oh, and I forgot,” she added, turning to Cruzada. “A while ago, when I left there . . . there is a very hairy black dog. . . . And I think he can follow a serpent’s trail. Be careful.”
“We’ll see about that! But I request that the full Congress be called for tomorrow night. If I’m not there, well . . . none the worse.”
But the assembly was reacting to the new surprise.
“A dog that follows our trails? Are you sure?”
“Almost sure. Watch out for that dog because he can do us more harm than all the men put together!”
“I’ll take care of him!” exclaimed Terrífica, happy (without the need for any mental effort) to put into play the glands that at the slightest nervous contraction squirt venom through the canal in her fangs.
But now each viper was prepared to spread the word in her own district, and Ñacaniná, the great climber, was given the special charge of carrying the news to the trees, favorite kingdom of the snakes.
At three o’clock in the morning, the assembly dissolved. The vipers, returning to their normal routines, spread out in different directions, each unaware of the other’s presence, silent and dark, while in the depths of the cavern Terrífica lay coiled, motionless, her hard glassy eyes fixed in a dream of a thousand paralyzed dogs.
VII
It was one o’clock in the afternoon. Through the fiery countryside, in the shelter of the clumps of espartillo, Cruzada crawled toward the House. She had no plan, nor did she think one necessary, except to kill the first Man she encountered. She reached the veranda and coiled herself there, waiting. A half hour passed. The suffocating heat that had reigned for three days was beginning to weigh upon the eyes of the yarará when she felt a mute tremble emanating from the room. Standing at the open door, only thirty centimeters from the viper’s head, was the dog, the hairy black dog, his eyes hazy with sleep.
“Damned beast!” Cruzada said to herself. “I would have preferred a Man.”
At this moment the dog stood still and sniffed the air and turned his head. . . . Too late! He choked back a howl of surprise and furiously shook his bitten muzzle.
The Decapitated Chicken and Other Stories Page 11