For five minutes and more this continued, while Nick Carter, grasping his rifle in his left hand, fought back an almost irresistible impulse to raise his weapon and shoot the half-human creature gesticulating in the clearing.
It was just when Nick felt as if he could not stand the suspense any longer that the man turned slowly toward a certain part of the forest surrounding him and beckoned with one of his skinny hands.
For a second or two there was no response. Then the dense growth of creepers on that side parted and from it stepped a young Hindu, dressed like the medicine man, in a loin cloth and turban.
He was a finely built young fellow, and, as he had nothing on to speak of, they could see his muscles ripple under the dark skin as he came forward. They also observed that his chest was heaving, as if he had undergone some extraordinary strain.
He moved slowly and in jerks. His eyes unnaturally distended, and once or twice he made a violent effort to drag himself back, as if resisting the power of the skinny claws beckoning him forward.
Finally the young man stood in the middle of the clearing, rigid and motionless, his staring eyes still fixed on the strange man who clearly held him under a hypnotic spell.
The medicine man took from his loin cloth a small reed and began to blow on it, producing a low, crooning noise, like a bagpipe rather out of tune.
He kept this up for some little time without any result. Then, suddenly, from somewhere—seemingly from the solid ground—a score or more of ugly, venomous-looking snakes came forth and seemed to be moving to the cadences of the small reed.
“Snake charmer!” muttered Chick.
“Yes,” returned Nick, in a scarcely audible tone.