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He had believed in a woman, had believed that the cobra's bite was only a wasp's sting. Good Lord, what an imbecile! He was insane of course, raving mad. And he had been here eighteen months and only saw the joke now. Michael laughed again, shouted with laughter. The sun was setting again. It was always setting now. It set in the mornings as well. The red thong of light was on the wall again.

It was broken by a scream of terror from forward. The quartermaster who had been at the wheel came clambering down the ladder and ran along the deck, his fingers splayed and stiffened before him in the intensity of his panic. "The needle! The compass!" he shrieked. Barnett ran to the wheel house with Trendon at his heels. The others followed. The needle was swaying like a cobra's head.

Swimming low and diving as often as he could, Mowgli went down the river, knife in hand. "Slowly, slowly," said Kaa. "One tooth does not kill a hundred unless it be a cobra's, and many of the dholes took water swiftly when they saw the Little People rise." "The more work for my knife, then. Phai! How the Little People follow!" Mowgli sank again.

When we have learnt that a cobra's bite is death, we do not put the belief away in a pigeon-hole of our minds, there to rust for ever unused, nor do we go straightway and pick up the first deadly snake that we see. We remember it always; we keep it as a guiding principle of our daily lives.

The boy felt of his legs, his arms, his ears, his nose, his hair. "I am all here except my eyesight," he said. The little old woman anointed his eyes with the cobra's oil. His sight was immediately restored. Then he knew that the little old woman was indeed the Holy Mother. She vanished as he knelt to receive her blessing. The boy in his new strength quickly hastened back to the city.

It meant he must disappear from the cobra's eye an instant behind the playhouse. . . . Carlin's tones were in the air. He could not live or breathe until the threshold was clear no concentration but that. . . . Like the last outburst before a breaking heart, he heard: "If you would only go go, my dear!" He had chosen or the weakness for him.

"Thanks, heaven born!" The captain and his troopers filed out. Umballa fingered the empty bags, his brow wrinkled. Cut off a cobra's head and it could only wriggle until sunset. Umballa gave the vanishing captain two weeks. Then he should vanish indeed.

But little troubles as well as great ones are best dealt with by being 'spread before the Lord. Whatever is important enough to disturb me is important enough for me to speak to God about it. Whether the poison inflaming our blood be from a gnat's bite, or a cobra's sting, the best antidote is pray about it.

To destroy the effect of a cobra's poison you must apply the toad's stone not later than two minutes after the infliction of the wound; but the stone of a cobra is effectual to the last. Its healing power is certain as long as the heart of the wounded man has not ceased to beat."

"Not nearer just there and I can't lose! . . . It isn't in the cards to lose, Carlin " Yet his mind knew he could not win. The cobra's head and hood recoiled with each blow. It took Skag's highest speed as an outfielder takes a drive bare-handed, his hands giving with the ball. The head moved past all swiftness, even the speed greatest swordsmen know. It was like something that laughed.