The alchemist put his hand into the hole, and then his entire arm, up to his shoulder.
Something was moving there, and the alchemist’s eyes—the boy could see only his eyes—squinted with his effort.
His arm seemed to be battling with whatever was in the hole.
Then, with a motion that startled the boy, he withdrew his arm and leaped to his feet.
In his hand, he grasped a snake by the tail. The boy leapt as well, but away from the alchemist.
The snake fought frantically, making hissing sounds that shattered the silence of the desert.
It was a cobra, whose venom could kill a person in minutes. “Watch out for his venom,” the boy said.
But even though the alchemist had put his hand in the hole, and had surely already been bitten, his expression was calm.
The alchemist is two hundred years old,the Englishman had told him.
He must know how to deal with the snakes of the desert. The boy watched as his companion went to his horse and withdrew a scimitar.
With its blade, he drew a circle in the sand, and then he placed the snake within it.
The serpent relaxed immediately. “Not to worry,” said the alchemist.
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