027- Snake Doctor -national broadcast different production

You are standing at the doorway of a cabin on Cassier Creek. Upon the ridge the bloodhounds have you sent. And between you and a fortune, between you and escape, yawn the white jaws of a deadly cottonmouth.

Escape, produced 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, an urbanist cob'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 Cassier Creek as Snake Doctor. His cabin was near the Creek Bottom Land where there was a powerful lot of cotton mouses. And he earned his meager living by rendering down their soft fats and bottling oil and selling it. For everyone knew

there was no remedy for rheumatism like snake oil. Snake doctor was harmless enough, but there was folks who honestly believed that he was a colleague of Beelzebub, discosy, wasn't afraid of snakes. That's not all they believed about him.

Now, the man who was afraid of snakes was J. F. Moana, who was snake doctors near a snake. J. F. was the kind of man we all know who suspected, feared, and hated anything he didn't understand.

And he understood neither Cottonmouth nor the snake doctor. In short, J. F. was honor, ignorant, and shiftless. He'd rather shoot squirrels and chop cotton. rather fished than old corn. And that's just what he's doing now, fishing, down to big hole with his son and heir, Finney, who's old enough, but not quite bright enough to handle