ALONE WITH A COBRA.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 347, 22 March 1911, Page 3

ALONE WITH A COBRA.

At the Bottom of a Mine. Tbo following briskly-t old story s from the- new issue nf " South \frican Skcreb.es and Stories," pubis he vl at the otVice in Wormwood Street, London, of "South Africa," and reprinted from that journal. 'South Africa," it may be added, is the recognised authority in England Dn everything that pertains to the important portion of the Empire which extends from the Cape of Good Hope north to the Zambesi. It is now two years since the Yellow Cobra Reef was discovered, but Joe Johnson never thinks of the morning he struck it without a shudder, and it is not until he has ?almcd himself with a pipe ot "Transvaal" that he can fully realise the fact that he is safe and sound in his snug little villa at Hastings. For Johnson's Gold Mining Company on the Yellow Cobra Reef is an accomplished fact, as testified by the photographs of a 3ustarnp battery, engine-house, workmen's cottages, and manager's lodge, which hang in his dining-room, and which, by the way, are very pleasant souvenirs of a very unpleasant time. And the varnished skin of a sixfoot yellow cobra which hangs over the mantelpiece is also a souvenir of this same unpleasant period. Now Mr. Joe Johnson would not part with that last relic under a very considerable sum of money. For thereby hangs a talc. Mr. Johnson, the fortunate vendor of the 34 claims which compromise the property of the mining company named after him, is only about 45 years of age, and surely that is no reason why his hair should be nearly white. He is a somewhat nervous man, slightly under the middle height, and on account of his extreme reserve, the result of constitutional shyness, he was known on the fields as "Silent Joe." But there is one thing about which he is never reserved and never silent. In fact, if the unwary visitor, or for the matter of that the "one anxic.is to please," were to casually ask him how he discovered the famous Yellow Cobra Reef, he would grow perfectly eloquent. He would take you round to the photographs and point, out the natural beauties of each—the battery-shed, the enginehouse, and even the little hut which formed hit: home 'or the, seven weary months during which he prosDcct.cd the unpromising hillside whicl eventually turned out so well. That little hut still stands —in Mr. Johnson's back garden—for which loving forethought he had brought it a way from the Rand, and often as he sits in it on a bright July day, he loves to imagine that he is resting from his labours in the noonday heat as in the weary old days. And it was in this self-same little hut that Mr. Johnson, one lovely summer day, told the story ot how he struck the reef. Lying back in a Madiera chair, and gazing away through the opening at the Heecy clouds which scudded across the sky, he fought his battle over again, and showed how his fortune was won.

"TM been prospecting that l»Lt of veklt for over seven months, and I was just about stone broke, as you may imagine. Prospectors as a rule haven't too much of the root a'jout them ; and as I wasn't being supported by a syndicate, at whose expense I could eat, drink, and be merry, and let the claims go to the devil, 1 used to feel pretty tight about the intestines. Mealie-meal aia't. exactly a good substitute for go d old roast beef ; and though hilts . n«— that's dried meat, you knowis very sustaining, yet I used to feel sick of the whole concern, and more'ti once I swore if 1 didn't strike it very soon I'd clear. You se: 1 . it sometimes happens that you come within a few picks of the reef, and aH at once you strike it. The ' indications,' as they arc calle/l, hid be.mi pretty good for some time last., and 1 didn't exiictly want to throw up what I somehow felt was a very good thing ; but, on the other hand. 1 was getting devilish tight on the chest, and after I had squeeze! ali my friends dry—and none ol them were li/ing like light-ing-cocks, not exactly—l began to sec '.hat if the reef kept himself dark much longer I should have to tramp l ack to the camp and take a billet in some store or other. "I had been able to keep a couple of r.iggers at work for some weeks, and jolly good boys they were, too. At last I had to shunt one of them, and sorry I wfis. Poor old September ! I believe lie piped his eye when he went, and if I could have found grub for him he would have stayed with me for nothing. Then Napoleon, the other boy, and I worked oh for another couple of weeks or so. until at last I found I had exactly one shilling in my pocket. Well, that was not very much, you'll ouv, to prospect a gold mine with ; and so old Nap. was sacked, and ] worked a couple more days or so by mvsclf. But it came to an end. My shilling was gone, and a few charges of dynamite was all that. I had. "The shaft ]. was Lh.en working on was about r.c feet deep. and instead of going np and down in a backet in the usual fashion. ! usM io slide down the rope, and when 1 wanted to go up 1 simply swarmed up like a nigger up a palm. This night, it was January and a blading hot day it. had been, 1 hiv awake till the morning. I'm not sure that I didn't pipe a bit to think that all my money and labour had gone into that, shaft—but, there, we won't say anything about, that, at- all events. 1 got up the next day hot. and parched ~i nd jijst infernal. 1 w:-n( i,, Luc shaft and looked down it, then I walked away and had a smoke, and then I went into the hut to have a look at the old cluuitv bciore setting

fire to jr. As 1 took one last glance I saw a charge 'o! dynamite lying on' the ground. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. "1 said, ' I'll have a parting shot.' In a few moments I wp.s letting mysel"' down the rope. I reache.d the bottom, and was just putting my hand into my pocket, when —I found myself face to face with a. hissing devil of u yellow cobra ! "I was struck as stiff as a piece of quartz. 1 felt the hot perspiration beginning to burst from every pore in my body and trickle down my forehead. I wanted to yell, but my tongue seemed to have swollen to double its size, and was as dry as hell. There was the snake, its fiery, lidless eyes burning into mine as it swayed itself backwards and forwards ready to strike the death-blow. My brain grew numb, and the only thing that I could think of was that I was at the foot of the shaft, and there was no means of escaping the brute. I had given myself up as lost, whfn the feel of the dynamite sent a thrill through my veins. It was my only chance. The next instant I hurled the charge at the cobra's head. I saw it carry him along strike the rock, and when I recovered consciousness I still had the dull roar of the explosion in my ears ; I still felt the rush of the air against my face ; I still had the tremendous shower of stones from the side of the shaft in my brain, but to my joy I found that beyond a few cuts I was unhurt. "Presently I found my match-box in my pocket. I struck a light, and there with its head blown off lay the yellow devil whose skin is in my dining-room. A lot of loose rock was lying about, and, scarcely thinking what I was about, I put a bit in my pocket. It was a long time before I had strength enough to go up my rope, but when at last I reached the top I lay on the bare ground in a half-dreamy state. But that didn't last long, and when I'd a bit recovered I took my pestle and mortar and crushed the bit of stone I brought up. My hand trembled a good bit when I panned it out, but when I saw the little rim of gold just along the edge of the dish yon can bet your life I was pleased. In a few minut.ss I was down that shaft again—well, to cut it short, that's why I named it the Yellow Cobra Reef."