water somewhere. So this time when he snapped
at a fly trying to lay eggs in his skin, and bore off a little to the
left, I didn't interfere."

"But the lookout forward does not seem promising," said the doctor,
raising his double glass to his eyes and sweeping the horizon.

"No, sir, it looks like warm stuff out of the kegs to-night, and none to
spare for a wash."

"I'm afraid so," said the doctor, closing his glass and drawing rein so
as to let Wilton and Bourne close up. "Tired, Chris--Ned?"

"Oh no," they replied.

"It's soon in the day yet, father," added Chris.

"That seems a pity about the water, Griggs," said Ned, as they rose
slowly on. "Oh how I should like a good swim in a clear river!"

"Wouldn't be amiss; but when you can't get beef, mutton ain't bad."

"I knew that," said Chris dryly.

"But you don't seem to know that when you can't get plenty of water for
bathing, nice clean sand isn't a bad thing for a good dry wash. It's
better without soap too."

Chris laughed.

"Ah, you may grin, but it's a nasty habit, I think, that of rubbing
grease turned into what you call soap all over your skin. Look yonder
on that patch of sand," he continued, pointing, for his keen eyes seemed
to miss nothing.

"Snakes!" cried Chris, bringing his rifle sharply round.

"Nay, nay, don't shoot. What's the good? You might scare something
better."

"Better!" said Ned, with his upper lip curling up and the corners of his
mouth going down.

"Yes; I don't care about snake," said the American dryly, "but I hev
heard that some of the Injuns cut the rattlers' heads off and roast them
in wood-ashes, and that they're uncommonly good."

"Ugh!" ejaculated Ned.

"Yes, that's just how I feel, my lad," continued Griggs, in his calm,
dry manner. "I'm like that countryman of mine who was hard up for tuck,
out in the backwoods, and when some one asked him afterwards how he
managed to live, he said he shot and cooked the crows."

"Horrid!" cried Ned.

"Yes, that's what t'other one said; and then he says, `But surely you
don't like crows?' `No,' says the first one, `I don't kind o' hanker
arter them.' It's the same here, I don't kind o' hanker arter snake;
but it's all a matter o' habit."

"Oh, ugh!" cried Ned.

"Ah, you may say ugh, but it all depends; when a fellow's hungry he's
got to eat something, and I don't see why a snake shouldn't be as good
to eat as an eel."

"But they're poisonous," cried Chris.