CHAPTER XXV
THE COBRA IN THE ROOM
Ceylon was a land of wonders to the tourists. Here they were in the veryheart of the Orient. Rare flowers and strange plants grew in gloriousprofusion, the air was odorous with a thousand scents, and it was hard forthem to realize that at that very moment America might be suffering fromzero weather or swept by blizzards. Here life moved along serenely anddreamily, lulled by the sound of birds and drone of locusts, wrapped inthe warm folds of eternal summer.
"It's an earthly Eden!" murmured Clara, as she and Jim walked along one ofthe main streets of Colombo, followed at a little distance by Joe andMabel.
"Yes," replied Jim with a laugh, "and not even the snake is missing."
He pointed to a group of natives and Europeans on the other side of thestreet who were gathered about a snake charmer.
"Ugh, the horrid things!" exclaimed Clara with a shudder.
"Let's go over and take a look," suggested Jim.
Clara demurred at first and so did Mabel. They were used to seeing snakesbehind a network of wire and glass, and they did not relish the idea ofstanding within a few feet of the crawling serpents in the open street.But curiosity, added to the urgings of the young men, finally conquered,and they joined the throng on the other side.
The performer, an old man with bronzed face, was squatting on his haunchesplaying a weird tune on a reedy instrument resembling a flute. Before himwas upreared a monstrous specimen of the deadly cobra species, swayinggently to and fro and keeping time to the music. Its malignant eyeslooking out from the broad head whose markings resembled a pair ofspectacles had lost something of their fiery sparkle, and a slight hazespread over them, as though the creature were under a spell.
The music continued and two other snakes crawled out as if in response toa call and joined their companion in his swaying, rhythmic dance. Then thetune changed, the snakes uncoiled, and the performer took them up withoutthe slightest fear and put them back in the basket.
"Suppose they should bite him!" exclaimed Mabel.
"He's had their fangs drawn already," returned Joe. "The old rascal'staking no chances."
"They say that a man lasts about half an hour after one of those fellowsnips him," observed Jim. "Somebody was telling me that over twentythousand natives are bitten by them every year."
A little further down the street, another fakir was giving an exhibition.He placed a small native boy in a basket that was a tight fit and put downthe basket cover. Then after making mysterious signs and mutteringinvocations, the fakir drew a long sword and plunged it through the basketfrom end to end. A scream of pain came from within, and when the sword waswithdrawn it was red. Again and again this was repeated until the screamsdied away. Then the fakir lifted up the cover and the boy sprang out safeand sound, and, showing his white teeth in a smile, went around collectingcoins from the bystanders.
They wandered further among the bazaars, making purchases of curios aspresents for the folks at home and adding to their personal stock ofmementos. Jim secured among other things a cane made of a rare Indianwood, which while light was exceedingly strong and so pliable that itcould be bent almost double like a Damascus blade.
But through all the chaff and fun of the day Joe was unhappy and restless.What he had read in the paper from home about himself poisoned everythingfor him.
He had always tried to be perfectly straight and honorable in all hisbusiness relations. His word had ever been as good as his bond. Now, atone stroke, he saw his reputation damaged perhaps beyond mending. All overthe United States he had been pictured as a contract-breaker. He could seethe incredulity of his friends turning gradually to contempt. He fanciedhe could hear them saying:
"So Joe has fallen for that game, has he? Well, they say that every manhas his price. No doubt Joe's price was high, but they found out what itwas and bought him."
Of course he had denied it, but he knew how people smiled when they readdenials. And months must pass before he could get back to America and tryto hunt out the author or authors of the story.
He tried to hide his mood under a cover of light talk and banter, but theothers felt it and sympathized with him, though all refrained frommentioning what each of them was thinking.
All through the day his gloom persisted, and when night came and he hadretired to the room that he and Jim occupied together he felt that itwould be impossible for him to sleep.
"There's no use talking," said Jim with a yawn, as he set his cane so thatit rested against the footboard and threw off his coat preparing toundress, "sight-seeing's the most tiring work there is. I feel more doneup to-night than if I had been pitching in a hard game."
"I'm tired too," agreed Joe, "but I don't feel the least bit like sleep."
Jim was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. But Joetossed about restlessly for what seemed to him to be hours. The night wasvery warm and all the windows were open to get what breath of air might bestirring.
A broad veranda ran all around the building, not more than two feet belowthe windows, and from the ground to the veranda rose a luxuriant tangle ofvines and flowers.
The moon was at the full and its light flooded a part of the room, leavingthe rest in deep shadow.
Joe at last dropped off into a doze from which he woke with a start.
He had heard nothing, but he had an uneasy consciousness that somethingwas wrong.
He glanced over at Jim who was peacefully sleeping. Then he raised himselfon his elbow and his glance swept the room.
Nothing seemed amiss in the lighted part, but in a darkened corner theshadow seemed to be heavier than usual. It was as though it were piled ina mass instead of being evenly distributed.
Then to Joe's consternation _the shadow moved_, reached the edge ofmoonlight, rose higher and higher with a sickening swaying motion. From ahideous head two sparks of fire glowed balefully and Joe knew that he wasin the presence of a giant cobra!
Baseball Joe Around the World; or, Pitching on a Grand Tour Page 25
