You haven't any idea 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.
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