In front of a scene then set in the second grooves of the Stage, the continuous performance was still in progress. Meantime, several of the stage hands were wheeling to the center of the stage, back of the scene, the properties of the next performer on the program--and grewsome properties they were. The object beheld by Chick was a huge, cagelike den, mounted on low wheels, and having a broad front of plate glass. Inside of this den were several wicker baskets, some of which were open, while others were covered and locked. In the open baskets, or writhing freely about the floor of the den, were fully fifty serpents of various sizes, many being only a foot or two long, while several were as many yards in length. A more repulsive and blood-curdling sight Chick had never experienced, and the stage hand who had asked him to move laughed at his look of mingled horror and repugnance. "Ever seen any like 'em after a jamboree?" he inquired, good-naturedly. "Well, hardly," said Chick, subduing his aversion. "If I were to go on a drunk and see anything like them, I'd sign the pledge the next morning." "A good scheme, too." "I should say so." "Some o' the crawling divils are as bad as they look," added the stage hand, while he helped to place the snake den squarely on the stage. "What do you mean?" inquired Chick, still gingerly surveying them. "Pizen!" "Venomous?" "You bet! Durn 'em, I wouldn't touch one of them for the wealth of Rockefeller." "Do you mean that some of them still have their fangs and poison bags?" "Sure! D'ye see that little copper-colored cuss down there in the corner, not more'n a foot long? If he got a crack at you, you'd not live ten seconds." "Well, I will take deuced good care that he gets no nip at me," declared Chick, with a grin. "Why do they have such dangerous things around?" "H'm! What would be the excitement, or the credit of snake charming, if the wriggling beasts were made harmless by pulling out their fangs?" demanded the stage hand. "It would be like a dog fight, with the dogs muzzled. These belong to that heathen Hindoo, the snake charmer. He shows next." "Pandu Singe?" inquired Chick, glancing at the name on the program. "Sure. He handles 'em like so many babies. There he is now, just coming from his dressing room. He looks a bit like a snake himself." Chick turned and gazed curiously at the approaching foreigner. Pandu Singe was a tall, swarthy man, with straight, black hair, an Indian cast of features, and a pair of intensely black and piercing eyes. Their glitter was indeed like that in the eyes of a snake, yet the Hindoo, approaching without a word to anybody, or a glance to either side, was not without a certain sort of savage dignity. He wore a red turban around his head, while a loose, black robe, belted around his waist, reached nearly to his ankles. With a gesture he signed the several men away from his hideous den of reptiles, and Chick retired up the stage.