The Adventures of Christopher Wells program, formerly scheduled at this time, is now broadcast at a new time on Tuesday evenings. Tune in for the Adventures of Christopher Wells next Tuesday and every Tuesday at 9.30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. You are standing at the doorway of a cabin on Cashier Creek. Up on the ridge the bloodhounds of Cochers sent. And between you and a fortune, between you and escape, yawn the white jaws of a deadly cottonmouth. Escape, produced and directed by William N. Robeson and carefully contrived to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to the worn out acres of a poor white trash farmer somewhere in the southern mountains in Irvin S. Cobb's great tale of vengeance, Snake Doctor. This story is about snakes and two men. One man was afraid of snakes and the other wasn't. The one who wasn't was known along Cashier Creek as Snake Doctor. His cabin was near the creek bottom land where there's a powerful lot of cottonmouths. And he earned his meager living by rendering down their soft fats, bottling the oil and selling it. But everyone knew there was no remedy for rheumatism like snake oil. Snake Doctor was harmless enough, but there were folks who honestly believed that he was a colleague of Beelzebub just because he wasn't afraid of snakes. And that's not all they believed about him. Now the man who was afraid of snakes was Jaffe Marner who was Snake Doctor's nearest neighbor. Jaffe was the kind of man we all know who suspected, feared and hated anything he didn't understand. They understood neither cottonmouths nor the Snake Doctor. In short, Jaffe was honor, ignorant and shiftless. He'd rather shoot squirrels and chop cotton. He'd rather fish than hoe corn. And that's just what he's doing now, fishing down the big hole with his son and heir, Finney, who's old enough but not quite bright enough to handle a gun. Missed him, doggy. Finney, you blame fool, I told you not- He gets in the creek. What? Cottonmouths, tramp on him in front of you. Cottonmouths? What, for the permit? Honestly, permit? You got him. You got him, keep your foot on him while I fetch a stick. You don't need to, son. Yeah, he's dead. Now come here. I could hit anything with that rifle, Pa. I had a beat drawn on him riding, I couldn't- You darn fool. Oh, Pa. I'm not a blamed snake whilst I'm a-fishing. Heck, you were sonning yourself not more than to there from you. How'd you like to get yourself bit? Won't be no fishing around here till thunderation after all that racket. Well, come on, let's go home and get us some fiddles. J. F. Marner tossed his bait can into the creek and threw a stick after it. He stood there watching the stick drift slowly toward the big hole, where the creek widened behind a jam of driftwood. Jake watched as the eddy caught the stick and sucked it beneath the dam. J. F. was curious. He moved downstream a route or two and waited, watching the water boil up from under the driftwood. But the stick didn't come up. That was strange. Must have caught under there in a tangle of water-soaked and sunken logs. Probably it'd stay there for months. Maybe stay there always. J. F. considered this and an idea began to form in his slow mind as he and Finney started home. Hey, Pa, how much oil you reckon's in this one? Pa? Pa? What you jawin' about, son? This old cotton-mouth. How much oil you reckon? Throw it down. Throw it down? Why? I'm... Throw it down, like I say. I'll make you wish... Oh, Pa. I'll spend on the old cotton-mouth's fat like the snake doctor does and maybe sell it and make myself some money. I don't like the squirmin' things around me. But it's dead. Leave it where it dropped. Now come on home. You a scared on cotton-mouths, Pa? I know better than to get myself bit by him. Tip Bailey know the fella got himself bit once and there weren't a drop of liquor for miles. So he goes to work and cuts open a live chicken and puts it by his leg where the bite was and fell a live, too. Reckon Mr. Ives ever get yourself bit, Pa? Handlin' cotton-mouths like he does? Who? Mr. Ives. Who? Mr. Ives. That's old snake doctor's real name. Ma says I oughtn't to call him snake doctor. Never mind what your ma says. Nobody in my family's callin' old snake-lovin' scum Mr. Ives. Heck, that's what I say. Proceed you do. Sure, Pa. You know, I could've made myself some money rendin' that cotton-mouths fat down into oil. How much you reckon old snake doctor makes out in the oil he sells? I don't know. Tip Bailey says old snake doctor's got more than a thousand dollars hit away some-heres in his cabin. Heh. More than that, most likely. Cussin' old miser don't spend nothin'. Ain't got nothin' save that old rack of bones, man. Tip Bailey says whenever old snake doctor sets foot out in his place, he's got the grand-daddy of all cotton-mouths that he leaves out in the cabin to stand guard on his money. Hmm. Tip Bailey says you see old snake doctor put him in his pocket. Live cotton-mouths. Snake doctor ain't fittin' to be alive as self. Oh, ma says he ain't bad. Says he don't mean nobody, huh? Your ma better be careful who she's sociatin' with. She says he don't have good sense. Had the fever too much, she says. Ever been the snake doctor's cabin, Pa? I don't have nothin' more than I have to to do with that snake lovin' hoodoo. Tip Bailey says he bet wouldn't be no task at all for some no-good to poke around in the snake doctor's shack and find all the money and make off with it. Hmm. Oh, this blamesin' Durnier renderin' me down. Look at my head, full of sweat, Pa. Here, look at it. Hmm. Durnier, God, full of sweat come off me. Why you turnin' down that-a-way, Pa? It's come all noon. Dinner be most ready. I'm gonna tell the snake lovin' hoodoo that there's some of them cotton-mouths on the crix out of our deadening. Oh, heck, he knows that. I'm gonna tell him he's got my leave to catch him. You don't need to come along if you don't want it. Well, if you're goin' over to his place, I'd kinda like to see it my own self. Go on in, Pa. He ain't a home else to show to yourself by now. I reckon so. Can you see any of the snakes, Pa? I told you to keep an eye out for him. I bet it's in one of them chinks, Pa. I bet the money's in one of them- You ain't lookin' for no money. Huh. Must be a dang snake itself livin' in a place like this. Pa, I know you ain't lookin' for any money, but if in your words, wouldn't you look in that chink right up there? Oh, where, son? Right there, second log below the fireplace on the right. You see that there hole? Yeah. I reckon I would look up there. Well, since we're here. Might as well see for myself. Oh, I wouldn't be a might surprise if old Snake Doctor- Pa, Pa, Pa. Somebody's out on the porch. It's Snake Doctor. Was you lookin' for somethin', J.F. Mourner? Yeah, I was lookin' for you. I want you. Yeah, yeah. Look here, you old hoodoo. What's the idea of sneakin' up on folks who took a trouble to come all the way down here to do you a favor? Yes, sir. Like as not that old Snake Doctor had a dang moccasin squirtin' round in his pocket whilst he was talkin' to you, Pa. Did you mind how his eyes was when he come in? Yeah. Dang, if it wasn't blazin', like when you run across a little rabbit or cat in the dark. It's gettin' me outta ten years gross, dang, if it didn't. And did you mind how I kept lookin' up at the wall where I said I bet he had the money tween the chink up the- Finney. Huh? Finney, don't you say nothin' to your ma about us bein' at the Snake Doctor's place, you understand? Why should I, Pa? Just don't. And don't you go night again. Cuss old vomit, you'd have thought we was prowlers the way you acted. Finney, that you out there? Yep, ma. Dinner's about ready. You're pa with your gun? Yeah, have I time enough for dinner to go down in the spring and get me some more cold water? And if you need some, you can. Hurry it up, son, I'm hungry. Got one. Catch anything, J? How you think I can catch fish with Finney firenin' off my gun at cotton miles all the time? Ain't this heat more than a body can bear? No. Any cooler by the creek? No. That poor old Miss Rives come by here a spell ago. Mine and I shook to pieces with a chill. Oh, he come by, did he? What did he come in? Just for a minute. Just for a minute, eh? What'd he want? He wanted, quote, to give him something for his ailment. He just about could drag one sour foot for the other. Barely could make it up here from this place. I reckon he must be down bed with a fever by now. I could tell by the touch it was rising in him when he left here and started back home again. I'd give him a dose down in our butler's acre drops. I would've give him a little smidge and a licker, oh, man. Oh, you would, huh? Oh, please don't, J. Don't do this. Don't want me. Just poor old Miss Rives. Miss Rives. Miss Rives. How many times I gotta tell you that that old hoodle's name is Snake Doctor? He don't mean nobody, no. Immited skin allows for its hide and teller, and you calling him Mr. Rives. You be calling him Honey and Sugar next. Well, without I learn, you'll be... Oh, please, J. Please. Paid names, huh? Tail by the touch, could you? Well, I aim to learn. What's his name now? Well, what's your poor Mr. Rives' name now? Snake Doctor. Kizzy mourned her rubbed, the ugly red welt on her scrawny arm, and gave the frying pan full of sizzling side meat a hopeless nudge. She prayed that the weight of the vittles might take the edge off J.F.'s temper. Phinny slouched in from the spring and saw the mark on her arm. Pa be whampin' you again, ma? She didn't answer. What'd you do this time? She silently dished up the hog back and cornbread for her two men, and while they sat at table, she ate on her feet, serving them between bites as was the custom in the mourner household. After dinner, Phinny stretched out under the china-berry tree, and Kizzy sat on the porch fanning herself and dipping snuff with a peach twig, scouring it back and forth on her gums. J.F. took Kizzy's on the floor of the back room, but he didn't sleep. One thing he'd seen that day and another thing he'd heard, he was adding them together, that stick that had disappeared under the logjam and the snake doctor's money. It was four o'clock before any of them stirred, and then J.F. spoke to his wife for the first time since noon. Where's that there vial of drinkin' liquor, Kizzy? By the window. You took it out in your pocket after you laid down. I ought to carry a vial of drinkin' liquor with me, ma. I might get bit by an old moccasin as soon as Pa would. Well, you better not let me catch you. You find it, J? I just remembered I won't be needing to tow no spits along with me where I'm going. I wouldn't take no chance, J. Just one cottonmouth bite. Cottonmouths all down the slashes, all along a creek. Well, I'll be this evening up on Bailey's Ridge in the high ground. You fixin' to go shootin'? I aim to gun me a chance of young squirrels between now and dust time. Reckon I'll come along, Pa. You stay in here, son. Oh, dang it. It'll be steamin' in the place when the rain comes down. Pa, you might need a million... You stay here! Oh, Pa. And Kizzy sent me up a snack of cold supper on the shelf. Likely I won't get back till it's plum time. Jaffe Marner turned north through his struggling corn rows, and in a minute he was lost from sight. He kept on for nearly a mile until he came to a wild red mulberry tree. Where mulberries are, they're bound to be squirrels. Very neatly, he shot two young greys through the head. But Jaffe was a master marksman, and unsuspected by any who knew him, Jaffe had another quality, and nighed most of his kind. He had an imagination. Today it was in excellent working order. He tied the brain squirrels together and swung them over his shoulder. If needed, they would be his alibi. Then he sat down under a tree awhile. Well, I got plenty of time. Don't need to get down to Snake Doctor's place at about dusk when he comes out to feed that swayback mare of his. Mr. Vance. He sat out two brisk thundershows and the intervals between them. Then he started off in a wide arc down Bailey's branch, along the skirts of Little Cypress Slash to the sunken flats, edge and cash hair creek. Took more than an hour careful traveling before he came to his destination. A screen of haw bushers, less than 50 yards behind the Snake Doctor's cabin. No matter how ill in he is, he'll get up and come out to feed that rack of bones mare. Mr. Rimes. I'll learn him to go car leaking around another man's woman. Jaffe Marner let his jealousy heat him to a white hatred. At this moment he was avenging his honor, and thus was spared the embarrassment of admitting to himself that the real reason he was here was the Snake Doctor's money hidden behind the log by the fireplace. The home wrecking snake loving vomit. Ten minutes from now I'll chuck him down the big hole in the creek like I did at Stick this morning, and he'll go down and never come out. And nobody will miss him. Nobody will know he's gone for at least wise a week, maybe a month. Maybe if I get around to it I might come back this way some day. Look around that cabin I hear some. Jaffe Marner's speculations were cut short. The cabin door opened, and a figure stepped out into the growing dusk and walked toward the stable. He saw the Snake Doctor's loppy old straw hat and his dark coat drawn over a pair hunched narrow shoulders. At this distance he couldn't miss. And he didn't. The figure jerked backward and then went face forward. Jaffe started for him, and then he stopped. His eyes bugged, his mouth formed a scream that he couldn't utter, his rifle dropped to the ground. He had just killed the Snake Doctor, killed him dead with a.32 caliber slug through the head. And there on his door sill stood Snake Doctor, whole and sound, and staring at him. Jaffe Marner, what you done? The scream came at last, but Jaffe Marner had seen the devil, this Snake Doctor who arose alive from his bullet riddled body. Jaffe whirled and ran into the deep darkening woods, whimpering like a whipped puppy as he tore through the brush. Escape, he must escape. He must get under the shelter of a sound roof, have the protection of four walls around him. So he ran and ran for hours. It was close to midnight when he came out on a dirt road a short distance southeast of his deadman. Beyond the next bend, he'd be inside a home. Then he stopped. Around the bend coming toward him was a juggling light, a lantern hanging on a buggy. Jake flattened himself in a clump of brush to hide until the traveler passed. And then, just as the rig was opposite him, he heard a call coming from the other direction. Jog it. Hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it. Miss Davis Ware, is that Q-tip barely? Yep. Open it out from the junction, tolerable tide, if anyone should ask you. What brings you out this time of night, Davis? Somebody say? Said nothing. There's been hella poppin' in these ear bottoms tonight. Steady boy, I said steady. Now what you mean? A killin'. That's what I mean. A dirty, cold-blooded killin' if there ever was one. Don't say it. Who's gotten killed? I'm a-fixin' to tell you. Um, it happened just around dusk time at old Snake Doctor's place. Yeah? Was him was killed? Now just give me time now. Yeah? Well, I think Snake Doctor's been a-chillin' lately. Uh-huh. Pretty bad off today. Yeah, I mean yesterday. And so long about five o'clock when the rain was a-lullin' a little bit, why, why Miss Kitty Mourner, see, she, she footed it down from her place to his and fetchin' some physics weather. He had to play the hot fiddle. Miss Mourner's a mighty thoughty one for doin' things for folk. Don't you want to hear this? Yeah, go ahead, go ahead. Well, seems like she, she wasn't a-fear to the Snake Doctor's place. Well, I'da been all over that. Well, pretty soon after she got there, seems like he tried to get up out of his bed to go feed that old crow bait nag of his. Uh-huh. Rain had started in again, but then it was pourin' down hard, so she, she made him stay where he was at, and she put on his old hat and throwed his old coat around her to keep off the west of the wet, and then she started out the back door to do the feedin' herself. Yeah, yeah. And no more, and she got outside and a shot come from the edge of the woods, and down she went with a bullet through her brain. And killed her. Dead as a dog. But who done it? Well, that low-flung husband of hers done it. That's who. He must've followed her down to Snake Doctor's and then just laid in wait for her. They certain pwass him, then. Why, sure thing. Snake Doctor jumped up when he heard the shot, and he catched a quick look at Jeef over the fence. He did. Yeah, there was a long streak on kids' arms where he must've whooped her out during the day. Well, hangin''s a sight too good for him to catch him. No, but they will. Some thinks that he's made for the slashes and hid out there. Tracks led off that-a-way. Uh-huh. Or they'd be a-line-a-men-throat all the way around Little Cypress for a son of them. Sheriff got there yet? No, but he's due any minute with his pack of dogs. They telephoned in from Gallup Mills that he's on his way. That trail ought to lay good, ground being damp like it is. So should. Old Snake Doctor, he's cryin' on and ravin' around up at Mourner's Place that the Lord's gonna strike the murderer down his track. I'm puttin' my main confidence in them bloodhounds. On them first, and then maybe on the stout plow line and limb of a tree. Yeah, it's more certain. Yeah, I'm just puttin' out for my place to fetch my oldest boy. I wouldn't want him to miss a lynchin. There's a good side crowd up there already. I'll go up and join him. I got a pistol here out of my hip pocket. Poor Miss Mourner, she always was a good-hearted, hard-working woman. Kizzie, she's dead. I shot Kizzie. Did you hear somethin' just there? Huh? I can't say I did. Probably a rabid breakin' through the briars. Listen, listen. Huh? Sheriff's a-comin'. You can hear them hounds of his. Now I've got to hurry. Get up there, baby. I'll see you back to Mourner. Well, you sure will. Jaffe didn't have time to waste Mourner and his dead wife. He was even a little relieved to know that the snake doctor wasn't the devil incarnate. He had a chance against a lynch mob and a pack of bloodhounds. This was the kind of antagonist he could understand and outsmart. Jaffe's imagination went to work again as he backtracked along the creek bottom in the spotted moonlight. Gotta throw them dogs off a trail. Right away to creek, even if it is full of cotton mouths. They must be all around me now. The folk says they don't strike no water. Well, I hope them folks is right. Gotta get back to the snake doctors. Get his money while he's still up at my place with Kizzie's remains. If we get his money, then the rest will be easy. Make for the deep timber. Cross country river. Make it but a morrow's sundown. Hire a shanty boater to ferry me to the Arkansas side. Get a haircut and catch a train for some as else. Gotta get snake doctor's money first. Snake doctor's cabin was dark and empty when Jaffe reached it and he needed light for his search. There were a few dull embers in the fireplace. He threw on some kindling, but it didn't light. Very well. He knew where the chink was. He had fired it in the dark. He scrabbled at the logs, felt some bark give, felt the clay mortar crumble under his fingernails. Here it was. A hole big enough for a man's arm. He plunged his hand into it, touched something slick and smooth, and then something sharp plunged into his thumb. At that moment, the fire flickered to life. Jaffe yanked his hand out of the hole, saw two tiny bleeding punctures in his thumb. At the mouth of the hole, stretched the wide open jaws of a cotton mouth. It worked fast. He felt the pain leaping from his thumb to his hand, seeping up his arm. He only had some liquor. He had a fresh-killed chicken to slap on the wound. He had nothing. Then a sharp, horrible pain wrenched his heart, and a second. And there in the fire life, the huge cotton mouth poised in its crevice. Jaffe leaped out of the shack and started blindly for the timber. Staggered, stumbled, and pitched forward on his face. His open mouth full of weeds and muddy grass stems. The cramping fingers of his outstretched right hand almost touching a reddish black smear on the wet, trampled grass. Good riddance, my gravy-ass good riddance. I'd call it that, wouldn't you, Dr. Bradshaw? Well, I reckon it's sort of a rough justice in the way he died. Look, look, his hand reaching out just about touches the blood where his woman fell. Ah, this has been quite a night, Davis. I've just examined the body of a man who appears to have been killed by snake bite. Killed good and quick, too, judging by the evidence. Well, Doc, ain't that the way a cotton mouth always does kill a man, sudden, Doc? I always hear it tell it. Never mind what you hear. I'm going by the facts. I've been practicing medicine in this county for going on to 46 years. And I tell you that in all my life, I've never known but two or three people actually being bitten by water moccasins. And until tonight, I never had the personal knowledge of anybody dying from a bite of any kind of a snake. Well, is that a fact? Hey, what's going on over there, Doc? That mourner's boy kicking up the fuss? Yeah, he's no good just like his pa. Hey, what's your trouble tip? Any of his went out of his head. I'm going to kill the snake that bitten my pa. Man, I'm going to give that old snake doctor a whupping for keeping a reptile in this place. Here, pa, God just waters his dew, Finny. Snake doctor ain't to blame none. He's a who-do devil. Now, looky here, boy. Mr. Rives promised all his savings nearly $100 to pay for burying your ma decent. Now, that's how much he thought of her. Now, now, go on home and behave yourself. Somebody ought to kill that reptile. I've bit my pa and I'm going to do it. Hey, Doc, just a minute ago, you started to say something about snakebiting not killing. How do you account for Jaffe here? Well, the late Jaffe mourner had a rotten, bad heart, Davis. Oh, he sure did. Yes, he proves that. I don't mean in that sense. I mean there was an organic weakness. Curious thing, though, there was no swelling anywhere. Well, there's them two marks on his thumb. Them snake gashes like some I've seen. Now, that don't explain how... What's... Hey, it's Finny mourner. He's in the cabin. That fool kid. Come on, Doc. He's probably shot somebody. I shot at it. I shot at it, but I didn't hit it. It's going to get me like it got my pa. Hey, come on, Doc. Come on. He said he was... he shot at something in the cabin. Well, I don't see anything. Oh, Finny's had enough having him yesterday to upset even a bright boy. So we can... Oh. Oh, there it is. What? That cotton mouth up there in the hole that long. Oh, that. Snake doctor told me about that vomit. Look at him closer, David. Oh, no, sir. He's not... Go ahead. Go ahead. It's just a stuffed snake. Stuffed? Yeah. Snake doctor believes in precautions, because that hole's where he hides his money. That snake could scare anybody away who didn't know it was stuffed. But just to be sure, old snake doctor lined the hole with coils of barbed wire. Oh. Oh. Oh, I see. You think that them marks on Jaffe's thumb was got off of the barbed wire, huh? It could be. Lot stronger hearts than Jaffe mourners would have stopped beating at a scare like that. Well, I'll be sweet. Old snake doctor's a cute one, ain't he? Oh, I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. Escape, produced and directed by William N. Robeson, has brought you Snake Doctor by Irvin S. Cobb, adapted for radio by Fred Howard, who also played Doc Bradshaw. With Bill Conrad as Jaffe, Paul Frese as Finney, Ruth Parrott as Kizzy, Barton Yarborough played Davis, Louis Van Roeten played Snake Doctor and Tip Bailey. The original musical score was conceived and conducted by Cy Fuhrer. Next week, you are alone in a remote old world village inhabited by cat people, and you are desired by a beautiful cat girl who wants your soul. Next week, we escape with Algernon Blackwood's eerie story titled Ancient Sorcerers. Good night then, until the same time next week when we again offer you Escape. This is CBS where 99 million people gather every week, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
