the
difference it would have made to me.

I don't know how long that tunnel was, but I do know I am not going back
there to measure it. It was nearly as big as the New York Subway, only
built of huge stone blocks instead of concrete. It seemed to be an
inferno, in which cobras hunted rats perpetually; but we saw one swarm
of fiery-eyed rats eating a dead snake.

There were baby cobras by the hundred--savage, six-inch things, and even
smaller, that knew as much of evil, and could slay as surely, as the
full-grown mother-snake that raised her hood and hissed as we passed.

The snakes seemed afraid of the Mahatma, and yet not afraid of him--much
more careful to keep out from under his feet than ours, yet taking no
other apparent notice of him, whereas hundreds of them raised their
hoods and hissed at us. And though nothing touched him, at least fifty
times rats and snakes raced over King's feet and mine, or slipped
between our legs.

"This fellow has some use for us," King said over his shoulder. "He'll
neither be killed himself, nor let us be if he can help it. This is no
new trick. Lots of 'em can manage snakes."

The Gray Mahatma, twenty yards ahead, heard every word of that. He
stopped and let us come quite close up to him.

"Have you seen this?" he asked.

There was a cobra swinging its head about two and a half feet off the
ground within a yard of him. He passed the lantern to me, and holding
out both hands coaxed the venomous thing to come to him as you or I
might coax a stray dog. It obeyed. It laid its head on his hands,
lowered its hood, and climbed until, within six inches of his face, its
head rested on his left shoulder.

"Would you like to try that?" he asked. "You can do it if you wish."

We did not wish, and while we stood there the infernal reptiles were
swarming all around us, rising knee-high and swaying, with their forked
tongues flashing in and out, but showing no inclination to use their
fangs, although many of them raised their hoods. At that moment there
were certainly fifty of the filthy things close enough to strike; and
the bite of any one of them would have meant certain death within
fifteen minutes.

However, they did not bite. The Gray Mahatma set down very gently the
snake that had done his bidding, and then shooed the rest away; they
backed off like a flock of foolish geese, hissing and swaying pretty
much as geese do.

"Come!" he boomed. "Cobras are foolish people, and folly i