Bang!
Whether the nerve of Chick had suddenly given way under the strain, or whether he had fired by pure accident, he never could tell. All he knew was that he had pulled the trigger of his rifle before he realized what had happened.
He had not taken aim at anything in particular, but it chanced that the head of one of the whirling snakes on the ground was in the direct line of fire, and was blown off as clean as if it had been severed with an ax.
With a shriek which explained who had been guilty of the unearthly screams that had first disturbed Nick Carter’s party, the medicine man whirled around as if looking for the person who had fired. Then he put his reed to his mouth and blew a loud, steady whistle.
It was a signal to the snakes which all understood. The big snake that had been around Adil’s neck loosened itself and fell with a flop to the hard ground. The others began to dart about in all directions.
The medicine man, bewildered, made a dash for cover. But here his haste was unlucky for him. It chanced that he trod squarely upon the body of the big snake.
Probably, now that the music had ceased, the snake was no longer under the man’s control—or it may simply have been frightened.
However that may have been, it uttered an angry hiss, flung back its head and arched neck, and like a stroke of lightning, buried its poison fangs twice in the bare leg of the fakir.
With a screech of agony, he flung up his long, skinny arms, ran around stumblingly in circles, still screaming, and at last fell in a heap in the middle of the clearing.
As he did so, something that he had been tightly holding in his right hand from the beginning fell to the ground and rolled in the direction of Nick Carter.