ted, though he
was silenced before the anger of his chief. But it was only for a little
while that he was thus disconcerted, for soon he resumed--though now he
spoke with humble fawning--

"It is death in the heart of Thunder-maker when the eyes of Mighty Hand
shoot their looks of fire. But--_Thunder-maker speak true_. Has he not
made great medicine these many suns? Did he not bring the thunder to
prove his great medicine? Has he not many times driven the fever from
the camp, till it fled over the prairie like a coyote driven with sticks
and dogs? Huh! many wonders has he done, and--more will he do. He will
do great medicine this day. He will show if the fiery totem has called
in vain for vengeance."

Thus speaking, Thunder-maker dived a hand into the bosom of his shirt
and drew out a bundle of dirty linen. The chief had lowered his arms, so
that the Englishmen could now see the Indian as he laughed and held up
the bundle triumphantly above his head.

"Great medicine!" he exclaimed, fixing his eyes upon the white men.
"Great medicine! Look! See! Listen!"

They looked, and as they looked they saw the linen move, as if something
inside were struggling to be free, and at the same time they heard a
sound like the sudden springing of an old-time policeman's rattle.

"Rattlesnakes!" exclaimed Arnold under his breath.

Thunder-maker laughed when he saw that the sound had been recognised.

"Come! Come, my children!" he cried, as he turned his face upwards.
"Come, my little son--come, my little daughter!"

Then he shook the knot of the bundle, and out from the aperture crept
two grey-green bodies--a pair of twisting, writhing somethings that
caused the onlookers to shudder and the Medicine Man to laugh, as he
repeated carelessly--

"Come, my little papooses! You will speak great medicine in the ears of
Thunder-maker!"

Slowly the serpents came from their covering. One remained coiled on the
raised wrists, the other--still sounding the ominous rattle--moved
slowly downwards till it rested on the man's shoulder. Then
Thunder-maker inclined his head, as if listening to a whisper.
Afterwards his face lit up with understanding.

"Huh!" he exclaimed. "Did not the spirit of Thunder-maker speak true?
Come, my little papoose! You shall show for whom the fiery totem
called."

Turning his head so as to look along his shoulder, the Indian suddenly
grabbed the writhing reptile with his teeth, after which (holding the
other se