There came a cry from the snake-charmer. 'Give me room--room!' and, in the next instant, he had flung his wand aside, thrown off his chuddah, and leapt to his feet. At the same moment the serpent reared itself up, shot out its forked tongue, and threw its sinuous body at the man, who received it on his knotted arms. The hideous combat went on for some minutes. Now the man seemed to triumph and now the serpent. Tom was sick with loathing; but he could not turn away. An invincible fascination, helped by a suspicion that the combat had some mysterious importance for himself, kept his eyes fixed. Suddenly the silence of the camp was broken. There came a cry of, 'Give place! The Ranee is coming!' The combat was at its height--the man almost lost in the folds of the cobra, and the awe-stricken circle falling back--when Tom, who had kept his position near the snake-charmer, saw her come out. She was dressed in the brilliant robe of black and gold in which he had seen her first, and covered from head to foot, so that he could not see her face. With slow and dignified step she advanced towards them. She had crossed half the space that separated her from the snake. It had loosened itself from the man, and was turning in this new direction. Unable to restrain himself, Tom darted forward. 'Keep back!' he cried in English. 'You are mad!' She spread out her arms, waved him back imperiously, and moved forward. At the same moment Tom saw on the face of the snake-charmer a look of such anguish and dismay that he thought his enemy had conquered and given him a deadly wound. Yet the snake had dropped and was lying at his feet, not dead, but spent. Confused and troubled, Tom fell back. The lady was advancing still. She was within a few feet of the snake. Its master warned her back, but she took no heed of him. Then Tom, who could bear it no longer, turned away and covered his face with his hands. There was a moment of absolute silence. His heart beat with curious rapidity, there was a singing in his ears that almost deprived him of the power of hearing, and though feeling that this would be the time to get away, he seemed to lack the power to move a step. All at once there was a shout. It was followed by another, and then by another, 'Victory! victory! Our Ranee-jee, daughter of the Prophet, protected of Allah, has triumphed!' The cries rang through the camp, were taken up by those who clustered round it, and echoed back from the village, so that in a moment all the country seemed alive.