lustered
at the door, wide-eyed, humming with terror and excitement. Presently the
drums sounded nearer and nearer--the throng opened--the Vokhimen danced
through, jibbering, curveting, posturing. He started at sight of the
palm-leaf cord, but passed by, unheeding a glass of rum which Boville
offered, and pranced upstairs. The agent was right. This devil knew where
to look! He thumped about a while overhead, then capered down, with a
bundle of orchids dangling on the iron stick. The glass was not refused
this time. After drinking, the summoner touched Boville with his wand of
office, saying, 'Come! The snake calls you!'

Boville did not understand the formula, but he guessed its meaning. There
was no help. He set forth. The Vokhimen pocketed the rum bottle and
followed, moving gravely enough now.

The mob shouted with astonishment at the appearance of a white criminal,
but when the cause of his arrest was seen--that bundle of the holy
Endua--astonishment changed to rage. Boville owed his life to the Azan,
the fetich cord, at that instant. But the drummers beat furiously, and, as
if in response, a dozen fetich men suddenly appeared, pushing through the
crowd. One side of their heads was shaven bare. They wore garments of
hideous fantasy, charms and horrid objects innumerable, and each a pair of
silver horns upon the forehead. Under this escort Boville marched to the
fetich place.

This was a bare piece of ground, encircled by the low dark dwellings of
the priests, with the sacred wood behind it, and in the midst the Snake
Temple. Often had Boville glanced into the small building, which has no
door, and seen the reptiles swarming inside. He did not feel the loathing
for snakes which is so common--happily, as it proved. But no man could
watch that multitude of restless, twining creatures without horror.

Led to the dreadful doorway, Boville turned, thinking to resist; but they
fell upon him, doubled him up--for the entrance was very low--and thrust
him in bodily. The poor fellow screamed in tumbling full length upon a
platform which occupied the middle. He had seen it alive with snakes,
writhing one over the other.

But none were there. He scrambled to his feet and looked round. The temple
had no windows, but the solid walls of adobe did not meet the roof, and
the level sun-rays of evening poured through the gap. There was nothing to
interrupt the view, save a besom and a basket. But no snake could he see.
A movement