nervousness, which is a mere
matter of temperament. But the man was a fool.

"The thing that vexed him most was her horror of snakes. He was
unblessed--or uncursed, whichever you may prefer--with imagination of any
kind. There was no special enmity between him and the seed of the
serpent. A creature that crawled upon its belly was no more terrible to
him than a creature that walked upon its legs; indeed, less so, for he
knew that, as a rule, there was less danger to be apprehended from them.
A reptile is only too eager at all times to escape from man. Unless
attacked or frightened, it will make no onset. Most people are content
to acquire their knowledge of this fact from the natural history books.
He had proved it for himself. His servant, an old sergeant of dragoons,
has told me that he has seen him stop with his face six inches from the
head of a hooded cobra, and stand watching it through his eye-glass as it
crawled away from him, knowing that one touch of its fangs would mean
death from which there could be no possible escape. That any reasoning
being should be inspired with terror--sickening, deadly terror--by such
pitifully harmless things, seemed to him monstrous; and he determined to
try and cure her of her fear of them.

"He succeeded in doing this eventually somewhat more thoroughly than he
had anticipated, but it left a terror in his own eyes that has not gone
out of them to this day, and that never will.

"One evening, riding home through a part of the jungle not far from his
bungalow, he heard a soft, low hiss close to his ear, and, looking up,
saw a python swing itself from the branch of a tree and make off through
the long grass. He had been out antelope-shooting, and his loaded rifle
hung by his stirrup. Springing from the frightened horse, he was just in
time to get a shot at the creature before it disappeared. He had hardly
expected, under the circumstances, to even hit it. By chance the bullet
struck it at the junction of the vertebrae with the head, and killed it
instantly. It was a well-marked specimen, and, except for the small
wound the bullet had made, quite uninjured. He picked it up, and hung it
across the saddle, intending to take it home and preserve it.

"Galloping along, glancing down every now and again at the huge, hideous
thing swaying and writhing in front of him almost as if still alive, a
brilliant idea occurred to him. He would use this dead reptile to cure
his wif