In the early summer of 1905 word got around our neighborhood that a man near Taskee had captured a large rattlesnake, which had the words, PREPARE FOR 1906, plainly visible on its back. Of course, this startling message caused no small stir, because many people took it to mean that Jesus was coming, bringing the world to an end that very next year! I do not think most people were quite ready for such an event. This world may not have been an ideal place for some of us, but at least, however hard, life on earth was familiar, and who knew just what the next would be like? Some claimed not to believe the story, but I suspect that they, too, felt some degree of uncertainty, however well hidden, just as the “believers” did. There is little doubt but that, to one degree or another, the awesome prospects of eternity close at hand thrust itself upon the minds of all.
This made a vivid impression upon me. I did not fully understand the significance of such a cataclysmic occurrence, but my church-oriented experience did provide me with some understanding. I knew, according to the Bible, the world would come to an end by fire. As I contemplated these things, cold chills traveled up and down my spine. Once I had seen a large field of sage grass burn off shortly after dark, and annually I had seen the woods along the mountainsides burn, lighting up the valley in which we lived. The sight of fire was beautiful and awe-inspiring. As we watched the sage grass burn that night, I remember one of the older siblings saying: “It is just like the end of the world!”
I was perplexed as I recalled the story of the snake that spoke from the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden and lied to our first mother, Eve; tempting her to disobey God. It had been carefully explained that the serpent (snake to us) had been a medium of Satan, which meant that Satan used the snake, like a tool. In Sunday School we children received cards with beautiful pictures on them, illustrating the lessons: I had seen Jesus with a lamb in his arms, Jesus with the little children, many lovely pictures of Jesus, but I had never seen Jesus pictured with a snake. It did not seem fitting that Jesus would send a message by a snake! Why would, He use Satan’s tool? But most grown-ups seemed to give some credence to the possibility that Jesus might be using that old rattle-snake to warn his people to be ready for his second advent. I wondered how they could trust a snake to tell the truth!
One afternoon about midsummer, as long shadows crept over our valley and the coolness of approaching night settled upon us, my brother, Millard and I were doing our chores when we sighted a well dressed stranger coming down the road. Since he was obviously headed for our place, we met him at the gate. Always an element of excitement attended unknown company. He asked for our mother, who shortly presented herself. Politely, he introduced himself as Mr. Martin, and said he needed a place to stay all night, that he would I be glad to pay if Ma would keep him. This was a rather common practice in those days of slow travel and sparse hotels; we were glad to oblige.
Millard and I hurriedly finished our chores, anxious for a visit with our guest. When we came from the barn, we found Mr. Martin resting in a chair on our front porch, alone for Pa was not at home that night. I suppose Fred, being a little tyke, felt disinclined to play the part of host. Besides, his interest very likely lay in the Kitchen, where Ma and the girls were busily engaged in preparing a company supper. But Millard and I were not hesitant in grabbing the opportunity to polish our social graces. As soon as possible we parked ourselves on the front with Mr. Martin, ready to entertain or be entertained. We could scarcely conceal our curiosity about Mr. Martin, and why he had turned up at our house. We had a feeling he should have something interesting to tell, and indeed he did have.
He said he had been looking for a snake which had the words, PREPARE FOR 1906, on its back. The man who had captured the snake was supposed to live on upper Camp Creek, according to the last word he had received. We told him we knew about the snake alright but he had come to the wrong place; the snake was at Taskee. He laughed and said. “I’ve just come from there! ”
“And you didn’t find the snake there?” Millard asked in a voice which wavered between disbelief and disgust.
“No.” Mr. Martin replied, somewhat amused at our consternation. “The people at Taskee had all heard of the snake but they said it was supposed to be on upper Camp Creek, near Des Arc! Mr. Martin went on to say that he had been skeptical of the snake story for some time now, but he had decided to check out this last lead. He had come to Des’ Arc by train, and had walked the four miles to our farm, only to find that the slippery old snake had crawled back to Taskee! Relief flooded over me, not only because I no longer had to worry about the world coming to an end in 1906, but I no longer had this problem about Jesus sending a message by a snake. All at once everything seemed right again. We now had-great news to spread!
After supper our genial guest told us more about himself, about his home in Kansas and the school where he taught. Back in Kansas they had heard about the snake with the words on its back, but their version had the snake in west Missouri. Being young, footloose and fancy-free, and having saved a little money, he had decided to come to Missouri and find that snake. He had wished many times, he said, to see the Missouri Ozarks, and the lure of the snake story, along with this desire, set him traveling. He had soon found that the snake was not in west Missouri. But everyone knew about it, and at each place they had a different version about its whereabouts, always a little further on!
I’m not one bit sorry about not finding a snake with those words on its back!” Mr. Martin said, “I’ve enjoyed this trip very much. I have met many fine people and have seen a lot of beautiful country. But how does a story like that get started?”
I suppose no one ever found out how it got started. And I am sure everyone shared Mr. Martin’s sentiments exactly in not being one bit sorry to find that no such snake existed!
The next morning, with breakfast hastily deposited where it belonged, Millard and I were all set to conduct a guided tour of the Old Farm; and Mr. Martin evinced the proper attitude of appreciation. It was early following the usual pattern of farm mornings. Heavy dew glistened on the grass and enhanced the elaborately designed spider webs, which hung in the weeds. The valley still lay in shade, except for long shafts of sunlight, which old Sol focused on the distant meadows as he climbed triumphantly above Firebaugh Mountain to the east. Our valley was compassed by six mountains, Big Creek Mountain to the northeast, Des Arc Mountain to the north, Bear Mountain to the southeast, Clarks Creek Mountain to the south and Sparks Mountain to the southwest. To the west a low range of hills stretched to the railroad at a point about half way between Des Arc and Gads Hill. Likewise, six farms lay in the valley at that time, including ours. We had 160 acres, with only about 5O or 60 acres cleared at the time of Mr. Martin’s visit.
Proudly we conducted Mr. Martin through our apple orchard to the south of the house, where our fine crop of apples grew, without threat of worms or blight. (A faulty apple was rare in those days and spraying was unheard of!) We showed him our water supply to the east of the house, near the creek, bubbling up cool and clear sending its refreshing stream though the spring-house to cool our milk and butter. Across the creek from the spring, the sorghum mill was set up in its permanent shed, and not far away Pa’s blacksmith shop beckoned for our attention. Mr. Martin seemed duly impressed with our spread. We were especially proud to show him the new barn. It was large and roomy with a wide drive-way and a fine hay-loft, something all farm boys appreciated. We also had a hay fork, which few farmers of that time had. With a hay fork one could load the hay very quickly into the loft. Where as with an ordinary pitchfork the job consumed much time and labor.
We walked up the creek and through the fields to show Mr. Martin the Indian mounds. We…
