Poniute repeated the call, and ere the echoes died away the mat covering the entrance was lifted, and Wee-gon, the great medicine-man of the Montauks, stood in the opening, and with a beckoning finger invited the young warrior to enter.

Filled with the awe which the presence of the wizard of the tribe always inspires in the minds of his people, Poniute followed the medicine-man into the lodge.

Even to a white man, the appearance of the strange being must have been nerve-chilling, as were the surroundings within the mystic abode.

His blanket was laid aside, and his face, exposed to the view of the visitor, was not of the prevailing coppery hue of the red man's skin, but rather of an ashen shade resembling the pallor of death. His thin lips were slightly parted, revealing a line of pointed, sharp teeth; his eyes, set deeply in their cavernous sockets, were intensely black and piercing, lighting up the ghastly features with an uncanny glow. His garments and surroundings were quite in keeping with his personality. A loose robe of deerskin, bedizened with curious and hideous. devices-coiling serpents, lizards, fishes, tortoises and scorpions, insects and skeleton bones, mingled in fantastic groups and standing out fearfully life-like covered the gaunt form. His waist was girdled by the stuffed skin of a rattlesnake, the head and notched tail of the reptile falling from hip to knee, seeming to assume life with every motion of the

wearer.

Skeletons of birds, snakes and beasts were heaped in a mass upon the earth at the right of the entrance, within the wigwam; a grinning skull suspended from a wooden hook, the conformation denoting it to be a remnant of the skeleton of a

gigantic negro; in the centre of the lodge, directly above the smoke of the lodge fire, a hoop was suspended, fringed around its entire circumference with scalps, all of the shining lengths of the Indian scalplocks, trophies of combats with the enemies of the Montauks dwelling upon the mainland.

Altogether the interior of the wizard's lair resembled a heathen temple rather than the abode of man, and the presiding genius looked not unlike a sacrificial priest of a Druid altar.

Placing his hand upon his heart, Poniute bent his head low in obeisance, and stood with lowered crest, awaiting the speech of the medicine-man, who presently motioned his visitor to a seat upon the broad mat spread in the faint light from a handful of coals glowing in the centre of the lodge, although the summer heat was oppressive.

Seating himself upon a second mat, near the elbow of his visitor, Wee-gon slowly lighted a pipe, drew a score of whiffs and passed the calumet to the young warrior, who silently puffed the smoke, then gravely returned it to the weird man.

"Why are the toes of the young brave's moccasins turned toward the lodge of the medicine-man of the Montauks?" asked Wee-gon, after a pause, during which his fierce eyes had been fixed upon the countenance of the young warrior. "Shall Wee-gon speak? Shall he say that it is not for counsel for a brave upon the war-path; not for a charm to bring down the game in the hunt, but to avenge for the wound in his shoulder where the teeth of the great wolf-dog sunk deep in the flesh; because the very dogs are turned against their masters, and lick the hands of their enemies; because the heart of the young warrior is hot with anger against the paleface who would tear the Heather Flower from her

native soil to bloom in his lodge until he tired of the wild flower of the forest, only to cast her forth, faded, withered, dying, while he sails away in his white-winged canoe."

The speech was delivered with an intensity that betrayed the pent-up fury raging within the breast of the wizard.

"The great medicine-man of the Montauks is wise; he reads the heart of Poniute as a broad trail in the noonday light. How can the wise man know what brought Poniute to his lodge?" asked the young Indian, as he met the fiery glance of his questioner.

"The leaves of the forest have whispered the story; the birds of the air have sung it; the wise serpent has come from his den in the cleft of the rocks to whisper it in the ear of Wee-gon. Has the young warrior seen the great serpent? Did he meet him on his way hither?

"Poniute saw nothing of the great serpent,' returned the young brave. "He comes forth in the sunlight to warm himself in the heat, and hides when the moon and stars light the earth."

Rising from his seat, Wee-gon stalked into the moonlight, beckoning his visitor to follow.

The rays of the rising orb of night fell in level sheen across the waters of the lake. The necromancer spread his hands and brought the palms together with a soft, soundless touch, repeating the motion a score of times.

"Can Poniute see aught of a serpent?" he asked, without moving a muscle of his face.

"Poniute sees nothing."

The wizard repeated the movement of the hands, and an invocation issued from his lips in a droning

tone.

"Great serpent from the cave beneath the water, Wee-gon says come!"

There was the soft rustle of the tall grass, and above the green plumes of a mass of flags upon the border of the lake an ugly head upreared. The white moonlight fell upon the distended jaws and glittering eyes shining like sparks of fire as the reptile swayed its head from side to side.

Again the wizard waved his hand with a beckoning movement, and, obedient to the unspoken command, the snake glided from his covert and approached the lodge with slow, lazy motion; but when within five yards, it coiled with a lightning motion, its head, raised three feet and swinging from side to side with the even strokes of a pendulum, oscillated in unison with the magician's index finger, a low hum issuing from its open jaws.

Involuntarily Poniute stepped backward, for the attitude of the reptile was that of preparation for the fatal spring. It was of a species not common in the forest, fully eight feet in length, its body thick in proportion, but faded by age from a glistening black to a dingy brown, a broad white ring encircling the neck, of the genus, that, like the anaconda of the tropics, crushes its prey in its hideous folds, attacking man or brute without the slightest provocation, giving no warning of its presence until the deadly coils are fastened about the victim.

"Is the young warrior afraid?" asked Wee-gon, in a contemptuous tone. "See!" he continued, awaiting no reply, "Ponny 2 would aid the young brave. He has sent his serpent to whisper in the ear of Wee-gon. Here, boy, here! Give to the

Ponny. One of the names by which the Evil Spirit was known among the island tribes.

great medicine-man of the Montauks the charm that will bring Heather Flower to the lodge of the young warrior of the Montauks; let the swift runner Ponny has sent warm himself in the bosom of Weegon. Here, boy, here!"

Slowly uncoiling, the reptile crawled toward the wizard, and, as if ascending a tree trunk, crept upward, its folds lightly encircling the waist and chest of the conjurer, the wicked head rising above his shoulder, close to his ear, while a low hiss broke startlingly upon the night air.1

Notwithstanding the stoicism by which the Indian is enabled to conceal his emotions, either of joy, fear, anger or grief, Poniute was unable to repress a shudder.

The enchanter was standing motionless and rigid, his eyes dilated in a mystic stare, his jaws set, and even under the moonlight Poniute could discern the exceeding pallor that had stolen over his features from brow to chin, but leaving the lips blue.

Presently a voice so chill, so hollow, as seemingly to proceed from the chest of a corpse, broke the silence.

"Wee-gon looks into the bosom of the future and sees there what will come to the enemy of the red man, the white warrior who would steal like a thief and take away the young Queen of the Montauks.

"I see the moon hidden behind the black clouds, the stars are put out by the Storm Spirit; the white

Charms against evil spirits, to propitiate demons, and to guard the wearer from harm, were given by the medicine-men. Love potions were concocted, also spells to remove a rival. The wizard was also supposed by practise of the black art to torture an enemy, or cause a lingering death.

The singular power to charm venomous serpents possessed by the medicine-men of the various tribes has been demonstrated since the earliest settlement of Europeans in the New World, a power akin to that of East Indian snake-charmers.