THE MORNING WATCH
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the Three Hour Service and on through the afternoon until, at last,
as the -top rim of the sun sank out of sight, the tip of the tail would
give one last quaver and the snake would lie still forever.
"Well come on," he was startled to hear Hobe's voice at his shoulder.
He turned to go.
"Aint you takin him?"
It had not occurred to Richard; now that it did, he certainly did
not want him.
"No."
"Hell fahr, you kilt him didn you?"
"I don't want him."
Hobe and Jimmy glanced at each other. "Okay," Hobe said. He
took the snake carefully by the tail. The break in the body held firm;
the head pulled loose from the rock like adhesive tape. He snapped him
like a whip; now most of the head was lost.
"He'll bust in the middle," Jimmy said.
"Hell I keer," Hobe said. But he did not snap the snake again.
Half a snake wouldn't be worth showing.
On the far side of the track they fell into single file for the
woods path, Hobe ahead, swinging the limpid snake at the new leaves,
then Jimmy, then Richard. Without consulting or imitation, all three
had put their shoes on when they dressed; they walked rather quickly,
and they did not talk.
In refusing the snake, Richard realized, he had lost a considerable
portion of their esteem, though not all of it. He was still regarded as
the hero of this occasion and he knew he was still one of them in a
way he had never been before. He was still pleased to have been accepted
and still pleased with his own courage, though he was sorry the snake
had been killed, and unhappy and uneasy whenever he caught a glimpse
of it ahead. He began to know how very hungry he was and with his
hunger he remembered once again, with surprise and shame that he
could have forgotten, what Day this was. It must be on past seven
o'clock by now. He would not start carrying the Cross until nine. By
now He would just be sitting on the stool or the bench in the garrison
room, probably sort of like a locker room, while the soldiers paid Him
no attention much but just hogged their breakfasts and maybe threw
cornbread at Him, no it wouldn't be cornbread; He just sat there with
nothing to eat or drink and some of the worst things were already over
by now; He sat in the purple robe holding the reed and the blood
was drying on His back from the scourges and the tom wounds were
itching and the spit was drying on His face (like my hand is drying),
not just spit but the nastiest kind of snot, too, if it happened here they'd
