“It is well, my fathers,” said the young man, and, casting his eyes about the council to find which face should be kindest to him, he chose the maiden, and said: “Let it be this one, for she found me and loved me in that she gently and without fear brought me into your presence.”
And the girl said: “It is well, and I will go.”
Instantly the grave and dignified elders, the happy-faced youths and maidens, the kind-eyed matrons, all reached up for their serpent skins, and, passing them over their persons,—lo! in the time of the telling of it, the whole place was filled with writhing and hissing Serpents and the din of their rattles. In horror the young man stood against the wall like a hollow stalk, and the Serpent maiden, going to each of the members of the council, extracted from each a single fang, which she wrapped together in a piece of fabric, until she had a great bundle. Then she passed her hand over her person, and lo! she became a beautiful human maiden again, holding in her hand a rattlesnake skin. Then taking up the bundle of fangs, she said to the young man: “Come, for I know the way and will guide you!”—and the young man followed her to the shore where his log lay.
“Now,” said she, “wait while I fix this log anew, that it may be well,” and she bored many little holes all over the log, and into these holes she inserted the crooked fangs, so that they all stood slanting toward the rear, like the spines on the back of a porcupine.
When she had done this, she said: “First I will enter, for there may not be room for two, and in order that I may make myself like the space I enter, I will lay on my dress again. Do you, when I have entered, enter also, and with your feet kick the log down to the shore waters, when you must quickly close the door and the waters will take us abroad upon themselves.”
In an instant she had passed into her serpent form again and crawled into the log. The young man did as he was bidden, and as he closed the door a wave bore them gently out upon the waters. Then, as the young man turned to look upon his companion coiled so near him, he drew back in horror.
“Why do you fear?” asked the Rattlesnake.
“I know not, but I fear you; perhaps, though you speak gently, you will, when I sleep, bite me and devour my flesh, and it is with thoughts of this that I have fear.”
“Ah, no!” replied the maiden, “but, that you may not fear, I will change myself.” And so saying, she took off her skin, and, opening the upper part of the door, hung the skin on the fangs outside.
Finally, toward noon-time, the youth prepared his meal food, and placing some before the maiden, asked her to eat.