“After this I untied the goat, led it near to the mouth of the cave and held it there for a time while it kept on bleating for its kid.  Next I took it almost up to the cave, wondering how I should drive it in, for I did not wish to enter there myself, Baas.  As it happened I need not have troubled about that.  When the goat was within five yards of the cave, it stopped bleating, stood still and shivered.  Then it began to go forward with little jumps, as though it did not want to go, yet must do so.  Also, Baas, I felt as though I wished to go with it.  So I lay down and put my heels against a rock, leaving go of the goat.

“For now, Baas, I did not care where that goat went so long as I could keep out of the hole where dwelt the Father of Serpents that had eaten Bena.  But it was all right, Baas; the goat knew what it had to do and did it, jumping straight into the cave.  As it entered it turned its head and looked at me.  I could see its eyes in the starlight, and, Baas, they were dreadful.  I think it knew what was coming and did not like it at all.  And yet it had to walk on because it could not help it.  Just like a man going to the devil, Baas!

“Holding on to the stone I peered after it, for I had heard something stirring in the cave making a soft noise like a white lady’s dress upon the floor.  There in the blackness I saw two little sparks of fire, which were the eyes of the serpent, Baas.  Then I heard a sound of hissing like four big kettles boiling all at once, and a little bleat from the goat.  After this there was a noise as of men wrestling, followed by another noise as of bones breaking, and lastly, yet another sucking noise as of a pump that won’t draw up the water.  Then everything grew nice and quiet and I went some way off, sat down a little to one side of the cave, and waited to see if anything happened.

“It must have been nearly an hour later that something did begin to happen, Baas.  It was as though sacks filled with chaff were being beaten against stone walls there in the cave.  Ah! thought I to myself, your stomach is beginning to ache, Eater-up-of-Bena, and, as that goat had little horns on its head—­to which I tied two of the bags of the poison, Baas—­and, like all snakes, no doubt you have spikes in your throat pointing downwards, you won’t be able to get it up again.  Then—­I expect this was after the poison-sugar had begun to melt nicely in the serpent’s stomach, Baas—­there was a noise as though a whole company of girls were dancing a war-dance in the cave to a music of hisses.

“And then—­oh! then, Baas, of a sudden that Father of Serpents came out.  I tell you, Baas, that when I saw him in the bright starlight my hair stood up upon my head, for never has there been such another snake in the whole world.  Those that live in trees and eat bucks in Zululand, of whose skins men make waistcoats and slippers, are but babies compared to this one.  He came out, yard after yard of him.  He wriggled about, he stood upon his tail with his head where the top of a tree might be, he made himself into a ring, he bit at stones and at his own stomach, while I hid behind my rock praying to your reverend father that he might not see me.  Then at last he rushed away down the hill, faster than any horse could gallop.