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PAR TIS A N R'EV lEW
the water; the veins stood out on his forearm almost like a man. He
decided that he would only submerge his hand, not wash it, no matter
what Hobe advised. But Hobe said nothing.
They dressed thoughtfully and they had very little to say;
now that they were on their way back there wasn't much to think about
except the trouble which waited for them. There would have been
trouble even if they had come straight back from Chapel, for they had
outstayed the watch they had signed for by a long time. But they began
to realize now that it would not have been as bad as it was bound to
be now; maybe they'd even have been let off.
If
they had gotten back to
bed at any time before daylight it wouldn't have been as bad as it would
be now.
If
they had come in just while the sun was rising it would
have been bad but not as bad as this. Now it was broad daylight and
brighter every minute, and with every minute longer now that they
stayed away they were in for worse trouble. They might be kept on
bounds, they might have to pull stumps or clean out the pit of the
backhouse, they might be whipped, they might even not be let go on
the Easter Monday picnic and they had planned to go clea r to Wet
Cave which had never yet been fully explored, and find new passages
and if possible, a new and secret entrance. There was no telling what,
for the worst of it was that they had gone against a strict rule so
conspicuously on Good Friday, and by taking advantage of a religious
event, and there was no way of imagining how much more serious an
offense this might seem to priests ' than to people. The train came down
from Coal City and passed them while they dressed, making a great deal
of gallant and vigorous noise, but it only sharpened their realization that
by now everybody was up and around and that certain people would
be looking for them and watching for them already, so that they hardly
even had the heart to look up at the blank baggage car and the
empty coach and to wave at the engineer who saluted them.
Richard didn't even look up as the train passed, nor had the
thought of punishment very clearly entered his mind; all the while he
dressed, he watched the snake. From the break on back it lay belly up
and the pallor of the belly, and the different structure of the scales,
so well designed for crawling, were quietly sickening to see. He tried to
see all that he could see without looking at the annihilated head, but
his eyes kept flicking back to where it lay, mashed almost like soft metal
against the rock, almost as flat and ragged as the toadfrogs and pennies
they used to put on the tracks in Knoxville, after the streetcar ran
over them. The snake moved very weakly now, but strongly enough
that Richard could not doubt it would keep moving, and blindly ex–
periencing the agony of death, straight on through the morning and
