s had collected the game, which was carried in
procession before the officers. The leopards and panthers, which they
skinned and rudely stuffed with grass, in an incredibly short time,
leading the procession, followed by the wild boars, deer, and antelopes,
each carried between two men, slung under bamboos, which rested on their
shoulders. The procession having passed in review before them,
continued its course to the town, followed by crowds of people who had
come out to join the sport.
"Gentlemen, like dine here?" inquired the interpreter--"soon make dinner
ready, but no ab tent."
"Thanks to _you_, doctor, they won't trust us with another. I vote we
dine here; for I am hungry enough to eat a buffalo, without anchovy
sauce--eh, Mr Prose? Let us dine under yon acacia, on the little
mount. There is a fine breeze blowing, and plenty of shade from the
tree."
Courtenay's proposal was agreed to, and the interpreter gave the
directions. He then told the doctor, that if Saib wished to see
snake-man, he come now, and bring very fine snake.
The man made his appearance, holding in his hand a small earthen chatty,
or pot, in which he had confined the snake, covered over with a linen
rag. He exchanged a few sentences with the interpreter, who explained
that "man not afraid of bite of snake, and if gentleman give him rupee,
he let snake bite him--man eat herb, same as little beast that kill
snake."
"Oh, that plant that the ichneumon resorts to when bitten," exclaimed
Macallan. "This will be a most curious fact, and I must witness it.
Interpreter, tell him that I will reward him handsomely."
"How does he catch the snakes?" inquired Seymour.
"Blow little pipe, sar," replied the interpreter, pointing to a small
reed, perforated with five or six holes, suspended by a string to the
man's neck; "snake like music."
He then proceeded to explain the manner of taking the snakes, which was
effected by lying down close to the hole where the snake was, and by
playing a few soft notes with the pipe. The snake, attracted by the
sound, puts his head out of the hole, and is immediately firmly grasped
by the neck, by which he is held until his fangs are extracted, by
jerking them out with a piece of rag, held for him to bite at.
"Strange," observed Courtenay, "that snakes should be fond of music, and
still stranger that people should have discovered it."
"And yet it has long been known--perhaps, from time immemorial,"
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