Karen and the Cobra

I the Cobra

C)s PLEASE let me bathe
the baby. I’ll take good
care of him. Truly I will, Aunt Marie. I know exactly
what to do. Please let me bathe him and put him to bed
today.” Karen’s brown eyes pleaded until their soft shin-
ing earnestness won Mrs. Drayson’s reluctant consent.
“All right, dear,” she said smilingly. ‘Perhaps this
is a good time to let you take care of Ronnie. I’m going
to be very busy for the next two or three hours. This
afternoon our newly organized Mothers’ Society will
meet for the first time, and there are several last-minute
tasks that must be done. I’ll have to take the servants with
me to help put the meeting room in order.
“Before I leave I’ll mix the formula for baby’s milk
so that it will be all bottled and ready for his feeding right
after bath time. I do hope he’ll go right to sleep as soon
as he’s put in his crib. For the past two or three weeks
he’s been so restless after his feedings that I’ve been
worried. I hate to see him toss and tumble; he used to sleep
so well I can’t imagine what’s wrong.”
6 81
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Karen Sat Manioniunt Praying That Ronnie
Would Not Waken

Karen’s face was troubled as kind Mrs. Drayson left
the room to get baby Ronnie. She wanted to do all that
she could to be of help to this busy woman who was really
no relative at all, but who had welcomed Karen when
the young girl’s missionary parents had been killed by
bandits. She longed to repay both Mr. and Mrs. Drayson
for their loving-kindness in caring for her until distant
relatives in the States could be found. She knew how
patient and understanding they had been with her all
during these months when she had seemed dazed by the
awful tragedy.
Karen’s thin brown hands trembled with eagerness
as she lifted laughing, roly-poly Ronnie from his buggy
and carried him carefully to the towel-covered table. Her
throat felt tight and choked as she undressed the gurgling
baby and slowly lowered him into his small tin bathtub.
She knew how very dear he was to Aunt Marie and Uncle
John. From the servants she had learned of the two little
graves far away in another lonely corner of China—
two little graves where Ronnie’s older brothers lay sleep-
ing. And she knew that Ronnie, who had been born
during the past year, seemed almost a miracle to his
parents.
“There, darling. Now you’re all réady to be fed. But
I’m not going to let you stuff yourself this time. No, I’m
not. Daddy always said that too much food gave little
babies bad tummy-aches. Now let Karen hold you. Oh,
but you’re a precious baby. How I wish you were my very
own brother!”
- Karen’s thin arms tightened longingly around the
soap-and-talcum-scented bundle as her brown eyes looked
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straight down into the round blue eyes staring so trust-
ingly up into hers.
Squeak! Creak! Squeak! Creak! The little handmade
rocker sang its own lullaby as the two rocked back and
forth, back and forth. The battered kitchen clock ticked
on and on until Karen saw that at last Ronnie’s long
black lashes lay fringed against his pink cheeks.
“‘He’s asleep. He’s really gone to sleep,” Karen
thought triumphantly. “Now if I can just tuck him into
his crib without waking him, how happy Aunt Marie
will be!”’
Carefully she pulled herself out of the little chair and
tiptoed to the door. Holding Ronnie against her shoulder,
she walked quietly down the long hallway and into the
clean plain nursery. Karen scarcely dared breathe as she
gently, ever so gently, lowered the sleeping baby into his
small crib. But at last she felt his little body firm against
the cool sheets and carefully pulled her hand from under
his back. Then, as she bent to cover him she saw his eye-
lids flutter open, his blue eyes look into hers, and his little
mouth draw down into a sad pucker.
“Oh, Ronnie,” she wailed. “I thought you were sound
asleep. There, there, honey, never mind. Karen’ll sit
right over here in this chair by the window. Now be a
good boy and close your eyes.”
Tucking the covers around the chubby, restless little
body, Karen tiptoed to the big bamboo chair by the win-
dow and sat down. The room was cool and still, and the
longer Karen sat there, the sleepier she became. From
time to time she glanced at Ronnie, only to find him still

wide-eyed, moving his head from side to side or staring
in wonder at his newly discovered fists.
At last, as she saw his eyelids growing heavier and
heavier, she slumped against the chair back and thought
drowsily that surely he would be asleep in just a moment.
Karen never knew just why she awoke at that exact in-
stant. It could not have been a noise, for the horrible
thing in the doorway moved too stealthily to have aroused
her. It could not have been any spoken warning, for the
silence of the house lay thick upon her as she realized
that she and the helpless baby were the only ones in the
dwelling. It could not have been the distant rise and fall
‘of the servants’ voices as they hurried back and forth in
the mission compound, for she had heard them long be-
fore she fell asleep.
As Karen looked at wide-eyed Ronnie, she shivered
as though struck by an icy wind, even though perspira-
tion beaded her forehead.
“O dear God,” she prayed, “let Ronnie go to sleep.
Please, please, dear God, make him go to sleep right now.”
Karen’s fingernails bit into her palms as she tensely
watched the hideous yellow-brown thing slide sinuously
over the floor. She saw it speed straight as un arrow to-
ward Ronnie’s crib, stopping only once to rear high above
the floor, its round, bronze-colored eyes staring directly
at her. She felt like screaming as, bit by bit, it coiled itself
around one leg of the crib and then flowed upward and
onto the white spread.
“A cobra! It can’t be—but it is! It’s a cobra!” Karen
thought wildly. Vivid mental pictures of cobra-bitten
men and women flashed dizzily through her mind and
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shattered into one dreadful scene of Ronnie dying in
agony from the snake’s venomous bite. She knew that any
movement would bring an instant attack from the reptile,
for when a cobra is aroused it becomes very vicious. And
she knew that, to an unreasoning snake, the waving of
those dimpled baby arms would be the signal for an
instant attack.
“Oh, if I could only do something!” Karen thought
desperately, well aware that she dared not move a muscle
lest she bring death to both Ronnie and herself. “If I
could only do something to save Ronnie. Dear God. Help
me! Show me what to do.”
“Pray, my child; pray!’’ 1»? Karen’s eyes opened wide,
for she knew that no human being except Ronnie was in
the room with her. She quivered as the voice continued
softly:
“Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder. .
Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I
deliver him. ... He shall call upon me, and I will answer
him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and
honour him.
“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer,
believing, ye shall receive.”
Karen closed her eyes and prayed earnestly—prayed
as she had never prayed before, even when kneeling be-
side some of daddy’s desperately ill patients. And when
she again opened her eyes to look at Ronnie, she saw him
lying quietly, ever so quietly asleep, while curled round
and round upon his body lay the hideous coiled death.
The clock ticked on and on. Karen dared not turn
her head but out of the corner of her eye she saw the

clock hands move slowly around. One hour! Karen felt
that surely she had been there for days instead of just
one hour. And then she heard stealthy tiptoed footsteps
down the hall. She dared not move. She dared not call out
a warning. She prayed.
“Has he gone to sleep? I’m sorry I was gone so long,”’
Aunt Marie whispered quietly from the doorway. “Did
you—oh!” her soft voice stopped abruptly, cut off in
the middle of a sentence. Karen sat motionless, praying,
praying, praying that Ronnie would not awaken, would
not move, would not cry out in his sleep. Dimly she was
aware of Ronnie’s mother, leaning rigidly against the
doorway, her face as white as the bleached muslin sheets
that covered the sleeping baby.
Pictures whirled dizzily through Karen’s mind. She
thought wildly that this was like a game of statue that she
had once played with visiting children from the United
States. She remembered how they had formed a line, hand
in hand, with the strongest child in the lead. He had
swung them about until, one by one, they had tumbled
loose and “‘frozen” into that exact position for a moment
or so. But Karen knew only too well that this was not a
game. It was life and death, with helpless little Ronnie
as the principal character.
Karen heard the clock tick on and on, on and on. She
saw Ronnie’s mother move backward, inch by inch. She
moved so slowly that she seemed not to be moving at all,
until she finally disappeared from sight down the hall
without even a whisper of sound to betray her going.
Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! On and on dragged the hands
of the clock. Siill and quiet lay Ronnie’s dimpled hands.
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Still and deadly quiet lay the creeping death upon
Ronnie’s precious little body. Another fifteen minutes,
thirty minutes, another hour.
“© God,” Karen breathed silently, “hear my prayers.
Spare Ronnie. Save us, save us, please, dear God.”
As tears blurred her eyes she saw the snake stir, move
sluggishly, and slither toward the edge of the crib. Karen
scarcely breathed as it slid down to the floor and glided
straight toward the hallway. She dared not move even
as it neared the door and the watchful Draysons.
“There! Careful. Look out!”’ rang the cries of the faith-
ful servants summoned by Aunt Marie.
“Hit it! Quick!” Karen heard Mr. Drayson’s voice
above the dull thud of the hastily-grabbed garden tools
as willing hands lifted them and struck again and again
at the writhing yellowish-brown coils of death.
She tried to rise from her cramped position, but her
legs and arms felt limp and useless. Dazedly she watched
Mrs. Drayson rush frantically to the crib and snatch up
sleeping Ronnie.
“My baby! My precious baby! You’re safe. Oh, thank
God, you’re safe,” she cried. Karen saw the joyful tears
streaming down Aunt Marie’s face. She felt Uncle John’s
strong arms lifting her gently from her chair and heard
his kind voice urging her to try to walk. Distantly she
heard him speak, but his words sounded faint and far
away.
“You’ve been a brave girl. We owe Ronnie’s life to
you.”
Then Karen heard nothing but a great rushing sound
and saw nothing but a swirling blackness that wrapped

itself tightly around her and pulled her down, down
into complete darkness.
The light pressed against Karen’s eyelids as a gurgling
laugh sounded close beside her ear.
“Karen. Karen, dear. Wake up.” Karen’s eyes opened
in dizzy surprise.
““Why—where—where am I?” she gasped, staring at
Mr. and Mrs. Drayson and baby Ronnie. ‘‘What hap-
pened—oh! I know.” Then as remembrance flooded back
she shuddered. “Oh! It was awful. I lived a lifetime in
those two hours!” She smiled wanly up at her friends,
speaking words that she had not been able to say for
weeks past.
“Daddy always used to call me his praying missionary,
because I’d pray by the bedside for the sick babies. Our
favorite texts were the ones I said over and over today.
Daddy told me those promises had saved many, many
sick children when he could do nothing more for them.
And today they saved Ronnie.”
Mrs. Drayson wiped away her fast-falling tears as
she bent to kiss Karen. ‘We can never thank you enough
for your Christian faith and courage, my dear, and for
your love for Ronnie. But now you must rest, for you have
had a dreadful experience.
“However, we can’t wait to tell you that we want you
to stay with us until time for you to go away to school.
Ronnie needs a sister like you, and we need a daughter.
Will you belong to us, my dear?”
Karen felt her throat too full for words. But her glad
cry as she reached for baby Ronnie and held him tight
against her was her joyous unspoken answer,
“I’m Going to Turn Around and Let My Legs Dangle
Outside,”’ Said June
90)