THE SNAKES 343 



fell upon the snake and, awakened from its day sleep, 

 the reptile relaxes its coils and crawls slowly from the 

 hiding place to stop and lay staring with ever-open eyes 

 at the surrounding blackness. The bat still rasps and 

 flutters, but the prowlers of the night are not yet abroad 

 and seem to be held in waiting for something. Only 

 the insects yet show activity. The flash of the luminous 

 beetles glow here and there, while a centipede, leaving 

 a phosphorescent trail, crawls near the snake, showing 

 the tree-trunk to be well patronized. 



Slowly the undergrowth begins to stand in silhouette 

 against the eastern sky and the tropic moon appears to 

 call forth the creatures who love and await her light. 

 The leaves of the stately palms soon glow blue and 

 against the purple sky the bat takes wing. Crawling 

 slowly from the tree the snake flattens in the moonlight. 

 Its body rises and falls regularly as it inhales the air of 

 the night. Now it yawns away the last vestige of sleep. 

 As the mouth opens the cruel fangs swing forward. 

 These instruments are thus momentarily unlimbered: 

 for they must work to a nicety, as the night will show. 

 There is a quivering flash of the black, forked tongue 

 and, following a clearing through the grove, the snake 

 starts off in gliding undulations. Sometimes the 

 ground dips slightly but over these rough surfaces goes 

 the serpent with the ease of running water. Strangely 

 the creature's green and yellow tints blend with the vege- 

 tation over which it glides. If it were motionless some 

 thoughtless creature might approach its doom with little 

 warning. The triangular head is alert with cat-like 

 eyes and playing tongue: for the Fer-de-Lance is 

 hungry, as hunting has been poor for some time. Night 

 after night the miasma has hung thick and heavy in the 

 brush and rose to float away only as the hated daylight 



