"Hear that snake?" demanded young Drew.

"No; and there isn't one," Tom assured him. "Why will you be so
foolish---so nervous? In other words, why do you destroy your five
senses with cigarettes in this fashion?"

Cl-cl-click!

Alf Drew halted, trembling so that he could hardly stand.

"I'm going to quit camp---going to get out of this place," he
shivered. "The ground is full of rattlers. O-o-o-oh! There's
another tuning up."

Tom laughed covertly. The disturbing sound came again.

"I never saw a place like this part of the range," Alf all but
sobbed, his breath catching. "Oh, won't I be glad to see a city
again!"

"Just so you can find a store where you can buy cigarettes?" Tom
Reade queried.

"I wish I had one, now," moaned the young victim. "It would steady
me."

"The last ones that you smoked didn't appear to steady you," the
young engineer retorted. "Just see how unstrung you are. Every
step you take you imagine you hear rattlers sounding their warning."