a warning rattle; a sharp thrust of a flat, brown head.

Ferguson halted in astonishment, almost knocked off his balance with
the suddenness of the attack. He still held the boot, his fingers
gripping it tightly. He raised it, with a purely involuntary motion,
as though to hurl it at his insidious enemy. But he did not. The arm
fell to his side, and his face slowly whitened. He stared dully and
uncomprehendingly at the sinuous shape that was slipping noiselessly
away through the matted grass.

Somehow, he had never thought of being bitten by a rattler. He had
seen so many of them that he had come to look upon them only as targets
at which he might shoot when he thought he needed practice. And now he
was bitten. The unreality of the incident surprised him. He looked
around at the silent hills, at the sun that swam above the mountain
peaks, at the great, vast arc of sky that yawned above him. Hills,
sky, and sun seemed also unreal. It was as though he had been suddenly
thrust into a land of dreams.

But presently the danger of the situation burst upon him, and he lived
once more in the reality. He looked down at his foot. A livid,
pin-point wound showed in the flesh beside the arch. A tiny stream of
blood was oozing from it. He forgot the pain of the sprained ankle and
stood upon both feet, his body suddenly rigid, his face red with a
sudden, consuming anger, shaking a tense fist at the disappearing
rattler.

"You damned sneak!" he shouted shrilly.

In the same instant he had drawn one of his heavy guns and swung it
over his head. Its crashing report brought a sudden swishing from
beneath the grass, and he hopped over closer and sent three more
bullets into the threshing brown body. He stood over it for a moment,
his teeth showing in a savage snarl.

"You won't bite any one else, damn you!" he shouted.

The impotence of this conduct struck him immediately. He flushed and
drooped his head, a grim smile slowly wearing down his expression of
panic. Seldom did he allow his emotions to reveal themselves so
plainly. But the swiftness of the rattler's attack, the surprise when
he had not been thinking of such a thing, the fact that he was far from
help and that his life was in danger--all had a damaging effect upon
his self-control. And yet the smile showed that he was still master of
himself.

Very deliberately he returned to the rock upon which he had been
sitting, ripping off his coat and tearin