He sat down in the middle of the road, and while the team rolled on,
jerked off his boots and stockings, and declared, as we hastened to
overtake Smith, that he felt he could walk all night, and that hereafter
he would go barefooted.

"Well," cried Smith, as we reached the team, "how do you feel now?"

"Fresh as a daisy," returned Fred, clapping his boots together as though
they were a pair of cymbals.

"What have you got in your hands?" asked Smith; for, it being already
dark, it was hard to distinguish objects at a short distance.

"My boots," cried Fred, triumphantly.

"Are you barefooted?" asked the convict in surprise.

"Yes."

"Then if you value your life, put on your boots again, and keep them on
as long as you are in the mines. You are liable at any moment to step
upon a poisonous snake; and if bitten, no power on earth can save you.
The natives pretend to cure bites, but I have some doubts on the
subject."

Smith spoke seriously, and as there might be much truth in what he said,
Fred willingly complied, although he groaned with pain as he drew on his
boots, and once more hobbled along beside the team.