"There's another rattler," he screamed. "It's under that blanket."

"It's all your nerves," Tom retorted. "There isn't a rattler
within miles of here."

"Didn't you hear a rattle, Mr. Reade?" wailed the cigarette fiend.

"No; I didn't."

"Didn't you, Mr. Hazelton?"

Harry was on the point of answering "yes," but Tom caught his
eyes, and Harry, knowing that something was up, shook his head.

"You must both be deaf, then," argued Drew.

"Why, see here, you nervous little wreck of a cigarette," said Tom,
grinning good-humoredly, "I'll show you that there is no snake in
that bed. Watch me."

With utmost unconcern, Tom took hold of the blanket, stripping
it from the cot. Then he ran his hands over the under blanket.

"Not a thing in this bed but what belongs here," Tom explained.
"Alf, do you see how cigarettes are taking the hinges off your
nerves."

Shame-faced, and believing that Tom was right, Alf advanced toward
the cot. As he reached the side of it-----