Within five minutes two more warning "rattles" had been heard near
the boy.
"The camp must be full of 'em," wailed the terrified boy. "And
I'm afraid of rattlers."
"So am I, Alf," Tom assured him, "but I haven't heard one of the
reptiles. The trouble is with your nerves, Drew. And your nerves
are in league with your brain. If you go on smoking cigarettes
you won't have any brain. Or, if you do, it will be one that
will have you howling with fear all the time. Why don't you drop
the miserable things when you find they're driving you out of
your heads"
"Perh-h-h-haps I will," muttered the boy.
After an early supper, Jim Ferrers rode away. He offered to leave
his rifle in camp, but Tom protested.
"I'd feel responsible for the thing if you left it here, you know,
Jim. And I don't want to have to keep toting it around all the
time you're away."
"But suppose Dolph Gage and his crew come over here, and you're
not armed?"
"Then I'll own up that we haven't anything to shoot with, and
ask him to call again," Tom laughed.
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