Our wild yelling echoed through the deep forest. The snake uncoiled
itself and writhing with pain made for the water's edge. By this time
we were relieved of the terrible suspense, but we took care to keep
at a respectful distance from the struggling reptile and the powerful
lashing of its tail, which would have killed a man with one blow.
After half an hour the struggles grew weaker, yet we hesitated to
approach even when it seemed quiet and had its head and a portion
of its body submerged in the water. We decided to stay through the
night and wait here a day, as I was very anxious to skin the snake
and take the trophy home to the States as a souvenir of a night's
adventure in this far-off jungle of the Amazon. We went up in the
bushes and lit a fire, suspended our hammocks to some tree-trunks,
and slept soundly not more than ten yards from the dying leviathan.
We all got up before sunrise, had our coffee in haste, and ran down to
see the snake. It was dead, its head practically shot to pieces. We
set to work, stretching the huge body out on the sand-bar, and by
eight o'clock we had the entire snake flat on the ground, ready to
measure and skin.
It was a most astonishing sight, that giant snake lying there full
length, while around it gathered six Amazon Indians and the one
solitary New Yorker, here in the woods about as far from civilisation
as it is possible to get.
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