Chapter III: Burton's Luck

While the notes of the gourd flute echoed through the tent, the cover of the round basket began to quiver and shake. Finally it slipped back, and there were startled exclamations and a brisk, recoiling movement on the part of the spectators as the head of a venomous cobra showed itself.

"A snake charmer!" muttered Burton, disappointment in his voice. "They're as common as Albinos--and about as much of a drawing card."

"That's a cobra di capello he's working with," remarked Matt, staring at the snake with a good deal of interest. "I saw one in a museum once, and heard a lecturer talk about it. The lecturer said that the bite of a cobra is almost always fatal, and that there is no known antidote for the poison; that the virus works so quickly it is even impossible to amputate the bitten limb before the victim dies."

"Shnakes iss pad meticine," muttered Carl, "und I don'd like dem a leedle pit."

"Sufferin' rattlers!" exclaimed McGlory. "I've been up against scorpions, Gila monsters, and tarantulas, but blamed if I ever saw a snake in a sunbonnet before--like that one."

The cobra's hood, which was fully extended, gave it the ridiculous appearance of wearing a bonnet, and there was something grewsome in the way the reptile's head swayed in unison with the flute notes. Suddenly the head darted sideways.

Motor Matt's quickness alone kept him from being bitten. He leaped backward, just in the nick of time to avoid the darting fangs. McGlory, wild with anger, picked up an iron rod that was used about the calliope and made a threatening gesture toward the snake.

"Speak to me about that!" he breathed. "What kind of a snake tamer are you, anyhow? If you think we're going to stand around and let that flat-necked poison thrower get in its work on us, you----"

The cowboy made ready to use the rod, but Matt caught his arm.

"Hold up, Joe," said Matt. "No harm has been done, and this is a mighty interesting performance."

"Aber der sharmer don'd vas aple to put der shnake to shleep mit itseluf," demurred Carl. "Der copra don'd seem to like der moosic any more as me."

"Probably the snake's fangs have been pulled," put in Burton. "I know the tricks of these snake fakirs."

"He got very good fangs, sahib," declared the Hindoo, dropping the flute and getting up. "He pretty bad snake, hard to handle. Now, watch."

Leaning forward, the Hindoo made a quick grab and caught the snake about the neck with one hand. After whirling it three times around his head, he let it fall on the earth in front of him. To the surprise of the boys and Burton, the cobra lay at full length, rigid and stiff, and straight as a yardstick.

The serpent charmer then walked around the cobra, singing a verse of Hindustani song.

"La li ta la, ta perisi,
La na comalay ah sahm-re,
Madna, ca-rahm
Ram li ta, co-co-la lir jhi!
La li ta la, vanga-la ta perisi."

"Jupiter!" exclaimed Burton. "I've heard the Bengal girls chant that song when they went to the well, of an evening, with their water pitchers on their heads. That's the time I was in India after tigers."

"_Dekke!_" cried the Hindoo; "I have killed my snake, my beautiful little snake! But I have a good cane to walk with."

Then, taking the rigid reptile up by the tail, he pretended to walk with it.

"How you like to buy my cane, sahib?" he asked, swinging the cobra up so that its head was close to the young motorist's breast.

Matt shook his head and stepped quickly back.

"Take the blasted thing away!" snarled McGlory. "Don't get so careless with it."

"The snake's hypnotized," explained Burton. "When he swung it around his head he put it to sleep."

The Hindoo smiled; then, thrusting the head of the rigid snake under his turban, he pushed it up and up until all but the tip of the tail had disappeared under the headdress. After that, with a quick move, he snatched off the turban. The venomous cobra was found in a glittering coil on his head.

With both hands the Hindoo lifted the drowsy cobra from his head, dropped it into the basket, closed the lid, and pushed the peg into place.

"That's a pretty good show," remarked Burton, "but it's old as the hills. Where did you come from?"

"Chicago," replied the snake charmer. "I want a job with Burton Sahib."

"What's your name?"

"Dhondaram."

"There's not a thing I can give you to do in the big show," said Burton, "but maybe the side show could find a place for you. Snake charmers are side-show attractions, anyhow."

Dhondaram was giving most of his attention to Matt, although speaking with Burton.

"He acts as though he knew you, pard," observed McGlory.

Dhondaram must have caught the words, for instantly he shifted his gaze from Matt to the showman.

"Burra Burton can't give me a job in the big show?" he went on.

"No," was Burton's decisive reply. "You're a Hindoo. Tell me, do you know a countryman of yours named Ben Ali?"

Dhondaram shook his head.

"Or Aurung Zeeb?"

Another shake of the head. Dhondaram, seemingly in much disappointment, gathered up his scarlet robe and his basket and started out.

"Know of any one who can handle an elephant?" Burton called after him.

Dhondaram whirled around, his eyes sparkling.

"I handle elephants, sahib," he declared.

"You can?" returned the showman jubilantly. "Well, this is a stroke of luck, and no mistake. Are you good at the job?"

"Good as you find," was the complacent response.

"This elephant's a killer," remarked the showman cautiously.

"He can't kill Dhondaram, sahib," said the Hindoo, with a confident smile.

"He has just been in a tantrum, and threw one man through the tent."

"The elephant, when he is mad, must be looked after with knowledge, sahib."

"Well, you come on, Dhondaram, and we'll see how much knowledge you've got."

Dhondaram dropped in behind Burton, and Matt and his friends fell in behind Dhondaram. Together they repaired to the animal tent.

"Don't like the brown man's looks, hanged if I do, pard," muttered McGlory.

"Me, neider," added Carl. "He iss like der shnake, I bed you--ready to shtrike ven you don't exbect dot. Aber meppy he iss a goot hand mit der elephant. Ve shall see aboudt dot."

When they were back in the animal tent, Burton and the boys found Rajah still in vicious mood. Straining at his chains, the big brute was swaying from side to side, reaching out with his trunk in every direction and trying to lay hold of something.

"_Himmelblitzen_, vat a ugly feller!" murmured Carl, standing and staring. "He vouldt schust as soon kill somepody as eat a wad oof hay. You bed my life I vas gladt I gave oop trying to manach him."

"There's the elephant, Dhondaram," spoke up Burton, pointing. "He's a killer, I tell you, and I'll not be responsible for damages."

"I myself will be responsible, sahib," answered the Hindoo. "Hold my basket, sahib?" he asked, extending the receptacle toward Carl.

Carl yelled and jumped back as though from a lighted bomb.

"Nod for a millyon tollars!" he declared. "Take id avay."

Dhondaram smiled and placed the basket on the ground; then over it he threw the red robe.

"_Dekke_, sahibs," he remarked, taking a sharp-pointed knife from a sash about his waist. "Look, and you will see how I manage the elephant in my own country."

Fearlessly he stepped forth and posted himself in front of Rajah. It may be that the angry brute recognized something familiar in the Hindoo's clothes, for he stopped lurching back and forth and watched the brown man.

"You got to be brave, sahibs," remarked the Hindoo, keeping his eyes on the elephant's. "If you have the fear, don't let the elephant see. The elephant is always a big coward, and he make trouble only when he think he got cowards to deal with. Watch!"

With that, Dhondaram stepped directly up to the big head of Rajah. Up went the head, the trunk elevated and curved as though for a blow.

Matt and his friends held their breath, for it seemed certain the brown man would be crushed to death under their very eyes.

But he was not. Rajah's trunk did not descend. In a sharp, authoritative voice Dhondaram began talking in his native tongue. Every word was accompanied by a sharp thrust of the knife.

The huge bulk of the elephant began to shiver and to recoil slowly, releasing the pull on the chains. Presently the big head lowered and the trunk came down harmlessly.

Then, at a word from the Hindoo, the elephant knelt lumberingly on his forward knees, stretching out his trunk rigidly. Dhondaram stepped on the trunk and was lifted, gently and safely, to the broad neck. At another word of command, Rajah rose, and Dhondaram, from his elevated place, smiled and saluted.

"It is easy, sahibs," said he. "This elephant is not a bad one."

Burton clapped his hands.

"Do you want a job as Rajah's _mahout_?" he asked.

"Yes," was the answer.

The showman turned to Matt.

"Are you willing to take the _Comet_ in the parade with Rajah," he inquired, "now that we have a better driver than even Ben Ali to look after the brute?"

"Dhondaram is a marvel!" exclaimed Matt. "Yes, Burton, we'll be in the parade with the aëroplane."

"Good! Hustle around and get ready. There's not much time. Come down, Dhondaram, and get the blankets on Rajah. The parade will start in half an hour."

The boys hurried out of the tent and into the calliope "lean-to." The _Comet_ had to be put in readiness, and McGlory and Ping, the Chinese boy, had costumes to put on.