“What does all this mean, sweetcakes? What game are you playing with papa?” she asked, pleasantly, without seeming to observe the overturned table.
“We’re playin’ Bad Man,” said Maebelle, in her softest voice.
“An’ papa’s it,” yelled Charlieboy.
Their mother actually smiled upon the disreputable rabble, and then she turned to me and inquired, sweetly:
“Have you had a good time, dear?”
“I haven’t read a page.”
“Were the children good?” she continued, anxiously.
I — glanced around upon the wreck and disorder.
“As good as gold!” said I.
The Diamond Back
The beginning of the story has been lost
...sunny rise and scattering cool rocks attracted me powerfully. I resolved to make it my future home and in a little gully beneath a wide spreading tree I found a shelving rock that suited me exactly.
But soon I discovered that whatever joys might be found here solitude was not one of them. Just across the gully there chanced to live another Diamondback who, judging from his size, was a year or so older than myself. He accosted me the morning after my arrival in a rather surly tone.
“Going to settle here?” he inquired, sticking his head from out a space between two points of rock and glaring at me superciliously.
“I think so,” I answered with calmness, returning his look fearlessly.
“Well,” he continued, “if you know what’s best for yourself you’ll not disturb me. I am King here.”
“Oh, indeed,” said I. “I was not aware of that.”
“You know it now,” he returned sneeringly, “and safety bids you remember it.”
I did not wish to quarrel with him, my nature being gentle and forbearing, so I withdrew beneath my own cool shelf of rock and curled myself up to sleep.
I shortly discovered my neighbor to be both domineering and ill tempered, but by paying little attention to him and keeping out of his way I managed to secure the peace and quiet I so highly prized.
One afternoon, as I lay at rest beneath my shelter, I heard a strange rattle in the gully and looking out beheld the most beautiful creature my eyes have ever seen. She had coiled herself beneath a low spreading bush and rested quietly, her broad, handsome head supported by the topmost ring of her glistening body. She was of my race and her markings were absolutely perfect, shading from rich bronze to bright gold, while her eyes were brilliant enough to shame the stars.
All this I saw with one long, comprehensive look, and I own that a fountain of love for the beautiful stranger at once welled within my heart. Never, even to this day, has that love failed to dominate my life.
Slowly and with diffidence I advanced toward her and was about to greet my love with impassioned speech and caress when a sharp rattle behind me attracted my attention and a voice hissed in my ear:
“Back to your rock, fool! I choose this stranger for my mate, and I am King.”
Filled with anger and indignation I swept toward my insolent neighbor and threw myself upon him. Then ensued a frightful struggle, the details of which have never been clear in my memory. I only know that in the end I struck my curved fangs deep in my enemy’s throat and as the poison coursed through his body his coils gradually relaxed and fell away from me. With an exultant thrill I realized I had triumphed.
I turned to the beautiful stranger and saw her eyes flash with pride and admiration.
“It was a good fight,” she said in a sweet voice, “and you have nobly won. If you wish it, I will be your mate.”
Then began those days which I look back upon as the happiest of my life. My darling and I were entirely of one mind and never a quarrel marred our delightful intercourse. She shared my shelf of rock and together we explored the hillside and hunted for food. A few times, indeed, we descended to the green meadow below the hill and chased the juicy hop-o’er-grasses ‘til fully surfeited with the delicacy. Danger lurked upon this plain, we well knew, but though we occasionally heard the footsteps of Man we were wise enough to lie quietly concealed amid the grass until the echo of the heavy tread had passed out of hearing.
A year of supremest bliss thus elapsed; then one morning as I lay dozing my darling roused me while creeping from our nest.
“Where are you going?” I asked sleepily.
“I think I will glide down to the meadow and forage for hoppers, for I am hungry,” she answered. “Will you join me?”
“No, dear,” I replied; “I have scarcely had my sleep out, as yet. But be watchful, my love, and beware of the Man.”
“Never fear,” she said with a gay laugh; “It is somewhat too early for me to meet a human, and I am fully able to protect myself if I do. The Man, in truth, should beware of me!”
“Well, good-bye,” I answered. “Do not be long.”
“I shall return before you are fully awake,” said she, and glided swiftly down the gully.
I must have slept longer than usual, for when at last I aroused myself the sun was sinking in a red glow over the hilltop. My darling had not returned.
Filled with anxiety for her safety, I left the nest and rushed hither and thither seeking some sign of my loved one. Near the foot of the hill I met one of those miserable Copperheads and, although as a rule I disdain to accost such creatures, I could not forbear asking if he had seen my mate.
“Follow the path that runs through the meadow,” he answered with an evil leer; “you’ll surely find her, for she is not likely to run away.” And then he darted off, for the Copperheads fear the Diamondbacks as much as we despise them.
The tone of malignant glee in his answer filled me with grave foreboding; but I sought the meadow path and glided slowly along it, thrusting my head this way and that in order not to miss my darling if she chanced to be near. The twilight was gathering, by this time, and as I came nearer the House of the Man no sound broke the stillness save the chirping of beetles or the occasional mooing of a distant cow.
My heart was beating rapidly now. Not with fear: I have never yet feared Man, although I know it is best to avoid him: but why did my mate fail to reply to my clear rattle? How could she have strayed so far from the safety of the hillside?
Then I turned a bend of the path and my startled eyes rested upon a sight I shall never forget. Lying across the beaten path was my darling mate; but her head was crushed and bruised to a shapeless mass and her beautiful form lay cold and still in death.
With a moan of anguish I crept to her side and laid my head against her motionless coils. The heart that had beaten with tender love a few hours before was now hushed forever and my own heart broke as I lay under the cold stars and realized my terrible loss. The night dews fell upon me, chilling and stiffening me until my folds were as cold and clammy as those of my murdered love; but still I remained, bemoaning the cruel fate that had taken her from me and dully wondering what was left me to make life worth the living.
Suddenly I knew. One thing was left me — revenge. The thought roused me to new life, in which all the gentleness of my nature was subverted and a harsh, bitter hatred of Man enthroned in its place.
Throughout the long night I lay beside my lifeless mate and planned my scheme of vengeance. Then the sun came up and warmed my stiffened coils, and I moaned anew as I realized that my poor darling would never feel the kiss of its kindly rays again.
At length I was roused by the sound of footsteps and knew that my enemy approached. But he was not alone; there was a patter of softer feet following the firm tread I had so often heard before, so I crept into the tall grass that bordered the path — and waited.
The sounds quickly drew nearer and paused at the spot I had just left. Peering from my retreat I saw not only the Man but two younger creatures of his race, on either side of him, their hands clasped in his own. The little ones were male and female; they scarce reached to the Man’s waist; their feet and legs were bare. The sight pleased me. I would be able to exact a
triple vengeance for the great wrong done me and mine. I began to consider which I should attack first.
While I hesitated, all three bent over the lifeless form of my mate and the Man kicked it brutally with his foot. In an instant my anger seethed and, scarce pausing to give the warning rattle we always vouchsafe to humans, I darted forward and buried my fangs deep within the flesh of the monster’s leg.
Oh what a cry of terror pierced the morning air then! I clasped my jaws more firmly to his flesh and writhed for very joy. The Man caught up a stick that lay near and rained blow after blow upon my back. These stunned me slightly and I loosened my hold and glided back into the grass; but my heart was filled with triumph, for I well knew the venom I had forced into the veins of my enemy would do its inexorable work.
Not until the screams of the small humans were followed by a rush of footsteps down the path and a renewed, tense silence, did I realize I had partially failed in my plans by allowing two of that hated race to escape. But there were other days to come, and now, I reflected, others might come to murder me as they had my poor darling. So I decided to retreat to my desolate home on the hillside.
I lay in the nest that was now ravaged of love and companionship through the entire day, through all the succeeding night, nursing my sorrow and reveling in thoughts of the just vengeance I had inflicted upon the murderer and the revenge which was still to comfort me. But the following morning I crept through the meadow and lay under a bush very near to the House, and presently I saw people bring a huge box from the House and gently place it within a covered wagon. A woman followed it, leading by the hand the two children who had escaped me the day before. All three were weeping bitterly and their tears filled me with joy. The Man I did not see, but I knew from their actions that he lay within the great box — as still and cold as my own poor love had lain upon the pathway.
There was little opportunity to complete my vengeance that day, for many humans had congregated and to show my presence in the neighborhood meant sudden death; so, when the wagon had been driven away, I crept softly back to my sheltered hillside and returned to my nest.
Many excursions I made thereafter to the green plains, where I lay, hour after hour, beside the beaten path, watching and waiting; but no sign of the Man’s young rewarded me. The nest was desolate indeed; I could not bear its solitude for long and aside from my uncompleted vengeance there seemed nothing remaining for me in life that was worth the tedium of existence. With mind and heart alike dulled by grief I listlessly sought such food as I required and continued to haunt the path through the meadow.
There, as I rested in the cool grass, I dreamed again of the happy days now past and gone and always a mental vision of my dead mate’s glossy coils and diamond-bright eyes was vividly before me.
One day an old Diamondback came creeping along and paused beside me. The hardness of his scales denoted great age; in his clear eyes I read ineffable composure and concrete wisdom — gained by long experience. When he accosted me in kindly tone I told him my story, and he said:
“Your history, my friend, is that of all created things. In life sorrow and gladness are always intermingled and I deem you fortunate, indeed, that for so long a time you enjoyed the society of a congenial mate — and lost her while love was still dominant in both your hearts. The mate of the Man whom you destroyed is suffering even as you suffer, yet both may find peace if it is earnestly sought. I have traveled far, my friend, and wherever I wander I find that all living things — the beasts, the birds, the humans, as well as those of our own race — are doomed to periods of intense suffering to compensate the pleasures they have enjoyed. Nature, it seems, equalizes life in this manner. Cease to grieve, therefore, over what is past, and face the future with fortitude. Who knows what solace life still holds for you?”
“Well,” said I, grimly, “I may be able to complete my revenge. That will be some solace, I admit.”
The ancient one regarded me gravely.
“Retaliation is Nature’s law,” he asserted; “but if you exact more than a just vengeance — an eye for an eye, a life for a life — you outrage Nature and become yourself an object of just reprisal. Be content that you have evened the score. Forget. Do not look backward; look forward, friend, to the blessings life holds for you. It is dark at night; on the morrow the sun shines.”
With this he left me, drawing his great hoary length through the meadow with scarce a rustle of the grass. And when he was gone I pondered his words, realizing their wisdom but refusing their guidance.
It was the following day that, as I crept along beside the meadow path — listlessly, as had become my habit — I suddenly heard merry laughter and the sound of childish voices. At last I had stalked my prey.
Strangely enough, as I glided nearer I felt no sense of elation, nor did I exult because the hour of my vengeance was at hand. I had so long brooded upon this thing and settled my course of action that I now accepted the meeting as predestined. So I halted with my body still concealed in the long grass and my head slightly elevated to enable me to view clearly the scene before me.
On the pathway sat the two children of the Man, playing with some pebbles they had gathered. Their light hair fluttered in the breeze; smiles wreathed their faces; their eyes were merry and unconcerned. Their little legs and feet were bare and spread themselves invitingly before me. The two were quite unaware of my presence; there could be no thought of death in their minds. Their laughter was free and spontaneous; they chattered in gleeful tones.
I waited. I could strike at any time, of course; so I watched the children curiously. They had not slain my mate, yet they were offspring of the Man who had done so; therefore, long ago I had doomed them to death, that my vengeance might be complete. The Man was already dead and gone from their lives; probably they had grieved for him in their childish way; yet today they seemed happy and joyous, their grief forgotten. That was what the ancient one had advised me — to forget. Could I ever feel joy again, I pondered, as these buoyant hearted ones did?
A bee flew down and alighted upon the girl’s leg. When she moved to brush it away the tiny thing stung her. Instantly the laughter turned to wailing; she wept and cringed, although a bee sting is so slight a thing to suffer, and her sorrow seemed to arouse my sympathy — to my incredible amazement.
The boy strove to comfort his sister. He embraced her and kissed her cheek, uttering soothing words. Then he ran down the path a little way and returned with some mud, which he plastered over the place where the bee had stung. As he did this the little boy thrust his bare feet into the grass — so near to me that I drew back my head to avoid contact — and then I lay still and regarded the human flesh before me. It merely awaited the clutch of my fangs to send the poisoned venom coursing through the veins — a prelude to death.
“If you exact more than a just vengeance,” the ancient one had said, “you outrage Nature.”
The child was so unfearing, so unconscious of danger, that I could not bring myself to strike. A bee sting? What was that, compared to the bite of a Diamondback? Yet even a bee sting had wrought misery in a childish heart and the little one’s tears unnerved me and made me vengeful against the bee. Our race has its dignity to maintain; we pride ourselves on never attacking Man save in self-defense or retribution, for our power to slay is so superior to that of Man that we can afford to be generous. This child had not wronged me; already I had exacted a life for a life; and yet — for days and weeks I had sought this moment, this opportunity, and gloated in anticipation over the deadly vengeance I would achieve.
I did not strike. The child rose to his feet and supported his sobbing sister as they went down the path toward the House. I let them go, unmolested. The opportunity had come and gone; I never sought another.
It is a simple tale, and it is now told. I have grown old and big with many years; years which have brought me experience and a share of wisdom. I have never found joy again, but I have found peace, and this moiety of comfort I owe to the
words of that ancient one who paused long enough in his wanderings to teach me the truest philosophy of life — to forget the past.
The Man with the Red Shirt
Early one evening, last summer. I was sitting on the porch of a hotel in a small town in northern Missouri. I had arrived in that place early in the afternoon, and although I had soon completed my business, I could not leave the town until the morning train.
As I sat wondering how I might spend the remainder of the evening, a traveling man, Arnold by name, whom I had met on the train that day, came out of the hotel. He was a man about forty-five years old and had a haggard expression. He proposed a walk to which I readily agreed. As we started down the steps, I looked behind me and saw a man wearing a bright red shirt standing in the hotel doorway; but I walked on with Mr. Arnold without saying anything about him.
As we went down the street, I noticed, on looking back, that the man with the red shirt was following us. I did not pay any attention to this at first; but as I kept hearing his ready tramp, tramp, behind, I began to grow nervous. We were now in a lonely part of town, and although my companion did not seem to pay any attention to our follower, I grew more uneasy every minute. At last I said to Mr. Arnold, “Do you not notice that we are being followed?”
He stopped, and without looking back, said, “So you see him, do you?”
“Of course I see him,” I replied to his strange remark.
The man with the red shirt had now stopped about a rod from us. He stood, as he had stood in the hotel door, with his hands in his pockets, and with the same smile on his face. Mr. Arnold turned suddenly and without any comment walked back past the man. Wondering what it all meant, I also walked past him, and joined my friend. We returned to the hotel in silence, and seated ourselves in the parlor, which was at that time empty. As we did so, our follower came in, and seated himself on the opposite side of the room.
Arnold turned to me and said, “I am going to tell you my story, although by doing so I shall put myself completely in your power.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 863
