dea how I can hang to
a thing until I win. I'm going to keep hammering at you until
I make you throw your cigarettes away."

"I'm never going to stop smoking 'em," retorted Drew. "There
wouldn't be any comfort in life if I stopped."

"Is it as bad as that?" queried Tom, with ready sympathy. "Then
all the more reason for stopping. Come; let's finish our walk."

"Say, I don't want to go down and through that thick brush," objected
Alf Drew, slowing his steps.

"Why not?"

"Snakes!"

"Are you afraid of snakes, Alf?"

"Some kinds."

"What kinds?"

"Well, rattlers, f'r instance."

"There are none of that kind on this part of the Indian Smoke
Range," Reade rejoined. "Come along with me."

There was something mildly though surely compelling in Tom's
manner. Alf Drew went along, though he didn't wish to. The two
were just at the fringe of the thick underbrush when there came
a warning sound just ahead of them.

Click! cl-cl-click!

"Whee! Me for outer this!" gasped Alf, going whiter than ever
as he turned. But Tom caught him by the shoulder.

"What's the matter?" demanded Reade.

Click cl-cl-click!

"There it is again," cried Alf, in fear.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Tom demanded.

Once more the dread sound smote the air.

"Rattlers!" wailed Drew, perspiring from fear. "Lemme get away
from this."

"Nonsense!" retorted Reade, retaining a strong clutch on the boy's
shoulder, though once more the sound reached their ears.

"It's all your nerves, Alf," Tom insisted. "You just imagine such
things. That's what cigarettes do to your nerves."

"But don't you hear the rattlesnake?"

"I don't," Tom gravely informed him, though once more the
nerve-disturbing sound rose clearly on the air. "See here, Alf,
rattlers, whatever their habits, certainly don't climb trees. I'll
put you up on that limb."

Tom's strong young arms lifted Alf easily until he could clutch
at the lowest limb of a tree.

"Climb up there and sit down," Reade ordered. Drew sat on the limb,
shaking with terror.

"Now, I'll show you that there isn't a snake anywhere in that
clump of brush," Tom proposed, and forthwith stepped into the
thicket, beating about lustily with his heavy boots.

"L-l-l-look out!" shivered Drew. "You'll be bitten!"

"Nonsense, I tell you. There isn't a rattler anywhere on this
part of the Range. It's your nerves, Alf. Cigarettes are destroying
'em. There! I've beaten up every