The Snake by Stephen Crane
Where the path wended across the ridge, the bushes of huckle-berry
and sweet fern swarmed at it in two curling waves until it was a mere
winding line traced through a tangle. There was no interference by
clouds, and as the rays of the sun fell full upon the ridge, they
called into voice innumerable insects which chanted the heat of the
summer day in steady, throbbing, unending chorus.
A man and a dog came from the laurel thickets of the valley where
the white brook brawled with the rocks. They followed the deep line of
the path across the ridge. The doga large lemon and white
setterwalked, tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels.
Suddenly from some unknown and yet near place in advance there came
a dry, shrill whistling rattle that smote motion instantly from the
limbs of the man and the dog. Like the fingers of a sudden death, this
sound seemed to touch the man at the nape of the neck, at the top of
the spine, and change him, as swift as thought, to a statue of
listening horror, surprise, rage. The dog, toothe same icy hand was
laid upon him, and he stood crouched and quivering, his jaw dropping,
the froth of terror upon his lips, the light of hatred in his eyes.
Slowly the man moved his hands toward the bushes, but his glance did
not turn from the place made sinister by the warning rattle. His
fingers, unguided, sought for a stick of weight and strength. Presently
they closed about one that seemed adequate, and holding this weapon
poised before him, the man moved slowly forward, glaring. The dog with
his nervous nostrils fairly fluttering moved warily, one foot at a
time, after his master.
But when the man came upon the snake, his body underwent a shock as
if from a revelation, as if after all he had been ambushed. With a
blanched face, he sprang forward, and his breath came in strained
gasps, his chest heaving as if he were in the performance of an
extraordinary muscular trial. His arm with the stick made a spasmodic,
The snake had apparently been crossing the path in some mystic
travel when to his sense there came the knowledge of the coming of his
foes. The dull vibration perhaps informed him, and he flung his body to
face the danger. He had no knowledge of paths; he had no wit to tell
him to slink noiselessly into the bushes. He knew that his implacable
enemies were approaching; no doubt they were seeking him, hunting him.
And so he cried his cry, an incredibly swift jangle of tiny bells, as
burdened with pathos as the hammering upon quaint cymbals by the
Chinese at warfor, indeed, it was usually his death-music.
Beware! Beware! Beware!
The man and the snake confronted each other. In the man's eyes were
hatred and fear. In the snake's eyes were hatred and fear. These
enemies manoeuvred, each preparing to kill. It was to be a battle
without mercy. Neither knew of mercy for such a situation. In the man
was all the wild strength of the terror of his ancestors, of his race,
of his kind. A deadly repulsion had been handed from man to man through
long dim centuries. This was another detail of a war that had begun
evidently when first there were men and snakes. Individuals who do not
participate in this strife incur the investigations of scientists. Once
there was a man and a snake who were friends, and at the end, the man
lay dead with the marks of the snake's caress just over his East Indian
heart. In the formation of devices, hideous and horrible, Nature
reached her supreme point in the making of the snake, so that priests
who really paint hell well fill it with snakes instead of fire. These
curving forms, these scintillant s create at once, upon sight, more
relentless animosities than do shake barbaric tribes. To be born a
snake is to be thrust into a place a-swarm with formidable foes. To
gain an appreciation of it, view hell as pictured by priests who are
As for this snake in the pathway, there was a double curve some
inches back of its head, which, merely by the potency of its lines,
made the man feel with tenfold eloquence the touch of the death-fingers
at the nape of his neck. The reptile's head was waving slowly from side
to side and its hot eyes flashed like little murder-lights. Always in
the air was the dry, shrill whistling of the rattles.
Beware! Beware! Beware!
The man made a preliminary feint with his stick. Instantly the
snake's heavy head and neck were bended back on the double curve and
instantly the snake's body shot forward in a low, straight, hard
spring. The man jumped with a convulsive chatter and swung his stick.
The blind, sweeping blow fell upon the snake's head and hurled him so
that steel-coloured plates were for a moment uppermost. But he rallied
swiftly, agilely, and again the head and neck bended back to the double
curve, and the steaming, wide-open mouth made its desperate effort to
reach its enemy. This attack, it could be seen, was despairing, but it
was nevertheless impetuous, gallant, ferocious, of the same quality as
the charge of the lone chief when the walls of white faces close upon
him in the mountains. The stick swung unerringly again, and the snake,
mutilated, torn, whirled himself into the last coil.
And now the man went sheer raving mad from the emotions of his
forefathers and from his own. He came to close quarters. He gripped the
stick with his two hands and made it speed like a flail. The snake,
tumbling in the anguish of final despair, fought, bit, flung itself
upon this stick which was taking his life.
At the end, the man clutched his stick and stood watching in
silence. The dog came slowly and with infinite caution stretched his
nose forward, sniffing. The hair upon his neck and back moved and
ruffled as if a sharp wind was blowing. The last muscular quivers of
the snake were causing the rattles to still sound their treble cry, the
shrill, ringing war chant and hymn of the grave of the thing that faces
foes at once countless, implacable, and superior.
Well, Rover, said the man, turning to the dog with a grin of
victory, we'll carry Mr. Snake home to show the girls.
His hands still trembled from the strain of the encounter, but he
pried with his stick under the body of the snake and hoisted the limp
thing upon it. He resumed his march along the path, and the dog walked,
tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels.