streaming from his mouth and nose.

"Shall I give him another?" was the question asked, but before it could
be answered the buffalo bull gave a plunge and fell dead.

Rattlesnakes are rather unpleasant reptiles to deal with, and Theodore
Roosevelt has shown his bravery by the way in which he speaks of them in
his accounts of outdoor life. He says to a man wearing alligator boots
there is little danger, for the fang of the reptile cannot go through
the leather, and the snake rarely strikes as high as one's knee. But he
had at least one experience with a rattlesnake not readily forgotten.

He was out on a hunt for antelope. The sage-brush in which he was
concealing himself was so low that he had to crawl along flat on his
breast, pushing himself forward with hands and feet as best he could.

He was almost on the antelope when he heard a warning whirr close at his
side, and glancing hastily in that direction, saw the reptile but a few
feet away, coiled up and ready to attack.

It was a thrilling and critical moment, and had the young hunter leaped
up he might have been dangerously if not fatally struck. But by instinct
he backed away silently and moved off in another direction through the
brush. The rattlesnake did not follow, although it kept its piercing
eyes on the hunter as long as possible. After the antelope stalk was
over, Roosevelt came back to the spot, made a careful search, and,
watching his chance, fired on the rattlesnake, killing it instantly.

In those days Theodore Roosevelt met Colonel William Cody, commonly
known as "Buffalo Bill," and many other celebrated characters of the
West. He never grew tired of listening to the stories these old
trappers, hunters, scouts, and plainsmen had to tell, and some of these
stories he afterward put into print, and they have made excellent
reading.

During many of his hunting expeditions at that time Theodore Roosevelt
was accompanied by his foreman, a good shot and all-round ranchman named
Merrifield. Merrifield had been in the West but five years, but the life
fitted him exactly, and in him Roosevelt the ranchman and hunter found a
companion exactly to his liking, fearless and self-reliant to the last
degree.

As perhaps most of my young readers know, wild geese are generally
brought down with a shot-gun, but in the Bad Lands it was not unusual to
bring them down with a rifle, provided the hunter was quick and accurate
enough in his aim. One morning, just before