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S---, especially approved of the idea.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the mesmerizer in soft tones, "allow me for this once to proceed otherwise than
in my general fashion. I will employ the method of native magic. It is more appropriate to this wild place, and
far more effective as you will find, than our European method of mesmerization."
THE CAVE OF THE ECHOES 57
Nightmare Tales
Without waiting for an answer, he drew from a bag that never left his person, first a small drum, and then two
little phials -- one full of fluid, the other empty. With the contents of the former he sprinkled the Shaman,
who fell to trembling and nodding more violently than ever. The air was filled with the perfume of spicy
odours, and the atmosphere itself seemed to become clearer. Then, to the horror of those present, he
approached the Tibetan, and taking a miniature stiletto from his pocket, he plunged the sharp steel into the
man's forearm, and drew blood from it, which he caught in the empty phial. When it was half filled, he
pressed the orifice of the wound with his thumb, and stopped the flow of blood as easily as if he had corked a
bottle, after which he sprinkled the blood over the little boy's head. He then suspended the drum from his
neck, and, with two ivory drum-sticks, which were covered with magic signs and letters, he began beating a
sort of reveille, to drum up the spirits, as he said.
The bystanders, half-shocked and half-terrified by these extraordinary proceedings, eagerly crowded round
him, and for a few moments a dead silence reigned throughout the lofty cavern. Nicolas, with his face livid
and corpse-like, stood speechless as before. The mesmerizer had placed himself between the Shaman and the
platform, when he began slowly drumming. The first notes were muffled, and vibrated so softly in the air that
they awakened no echo, but the Shaman quickened his pendulum-like motion and the child became restless.
The drummer then began a slow chant, low, impressive and solemn.
As the unknown words issued from his lips, the flames of the candles and torches wavered and flickered,
until they began dancing in rhythm with the chant. A cold wind came wheezing from the dark corridors
beyond the water, leaving a plaintive echo in its trail. Then a sort of nebulous vapour, seeming to ooze from
the rocky ground and walls, gathered about the Shaman and the boy. Around the latter the aura was silvery
and transparent, but the cloud which enveloped the former was red and sinister. Approaching nearer to the
platform the magician beat a louder roll upon the drum, and this time the echo caught it up with terrific
effect! It reverberated near and far in incessant peals; one wail followed another louder and louder, until the
thundering roar seemed the chorus of a thousand demon voices rising from the fathomless depths of the lake.
The water itself, whose surface, illuminated by many lights, had previously been smooth as a sheet of glass,
became suddenly agitated, as if a powerful gust of wind had swept over its unruffled face. Another chant, and
a roll of the drum, and the mountain trembled to its foundation with the cannon-like peals which rolled
through the dark and distant corridors. The Shaman's body rose two yards in the air, and nodding and
swaying, sat, self-suspended like an apparition. But the transformation which now occurred in the boy
chilled everyone, as they speechlessly watched the scene. The silvery cloud about the boy now seemed to lift
him, too, into the air; but, unlike the Shaman, his feet never left the ground. The child began to grow, as
though the work of years was miraculously accomplished in a few seconds. He became tall and large, and his
senile features grew older with the ageing of his body. A few more seconds, and the youthful form had
entirely disappeared. It was totally absorbed in another individuality, and, to the horror of those present who
had been familiar with his appearance, this individuality was that of old Mr. Izvertzoff, and on his temple was
a large gaping wound, from which trickled great drops of blood.
This phantom moved towards Nicolas, till it stood directly in front of him, while he, with his hair standing
erect, with the look of a madman gazed at his own son, transformed into his uncle. The sepulchral silence was
broken by the Hungarian, who, addressing the child phantom, asked him, in solemn voice:
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