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Twila still only stared.
But when Lavinia fell forward in a faint, her hand falling free of the snakebite, Twila knew exactly what she must do.
Her mammy and pappy, as well as Lavinia, had told her what to do if she was ever bitten by a snake.
Her heart pounding, hoping that she remembered those instructions correctly, and that she had the courage to do what she must in order to save Lavinia’s life, Twila set the lantern on the floor of the canoe close to Lavinia. Then she fell to her knees beside her.
Twila slowly turned Lavinia over so that she lay on her back.
Lavinia’s eyes were tightly closed, and Twila feared that she might already be dying. So many snakes in this area were poisonous.
She knew what she must do. And quickly!
Her fingers trembling, Twila first tore the sleeve of Lavinia’s blouse away from the bite. Blood was oozing from it.
She then took Lavinia’s knife from its sheath.
She gazed heavenward. “Sweet Jesus, have mercy and guide me to do what’s right for Lavinia,” sheprayed. “Guide my hand, Jesus. Please guide my hand.”
No matter how much praying she might do, Twila knew that nothing was going to stop her hand from trembling as she placed the blade to the wound.
She continued praying beneath her breath, over and over again, as she cut into Lavinia’s delicate flesh.
Then she dropped the knife.
Trembling from her head to her toes, Twila leaned over and placed her mouth on the wound. She almost vomited from the vile taste of the blood. But she did what she knew must be done.
Twila sucked, then spit, sucked, then spit, until she had gotten all the venom she could from the wound.
She grabbed the paddle, sat down on the seat, and began drawing the paddle frantically through the water.
Everything was so dark around her. The light of the moon could not penetrate the thick foliage here, and the lantern made only a feeble glow. She feared she would be next to be attacked.
The river had narrowed somewhat, and she could see green eyes here and there peering at her from the darkness along the riverbank.
Twila had no skill to turn the canoe around, so she continued paddling the canoe forward. Her only hope was that eventually she might run into that island she had heard so much about…Mystic Island, the home of the Seminole.
She was more afraid of Lavinia dying than of coming face-to-face with Indians.
Fear held her in its grip, and Twila swallowed hard. She fought back more tears as she traveled down the river.
Her eyes widened when she saw the light of a torch up ahead; it was coming toward her on the river!
Someone else was on the river tonight, and she didn’t care who it was, only prayed they would offer help.
Twila began screaming “Help” over and over again as she continued to paddle.
She felt hopeful now as the light from the torch in the other canoe came closer and closer. Finally she could make out someone sitting in that canoe.
And then her eyes widened and her heart soared with happiness. The torch revealed someone that she could hardly believe!
Her pappy!
He was in the canoe with an Indian warrior and two young boys.
She dropped the paddle and held the lantern up as high as she could so that her pappy and those with him could see her.
“Pappy!” she cried. “Pappy! I be here in de canoe. Pappy! You ain’t dead!”
