"I wonder if Ferrers can get back tonight?" Tom mused, after the
meal.
"He might, but a doctor couldn't get here tonight, unless he,
too, could move fast on skis," Leon replied.
"Anyway, I'm not as worried as I was," sighed Reade.
The door opened, and Alf Drew entered. That youngster rarely
came to the cook shack alone, but the lad learned that Tom Reade
was present.
"Sit down and keep quiet, if you're going to stay here," ordered
Cook Leon.
Alf went to the corner of the shack furthest from the other two.
Tom, watching covertly, saw Alf furtively draw out cigarette
and match.
Very softly Drew scratched a match. He was standing, his back
turned to the others, over a wood-box.
Click-ick-ick! sounded a warning note.
"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" howled Alf, jumping back, dropping both match and
cigarette.
"What's the matter, youngster?" demanded Tom placidly.
"There's a rattlesnake in there under the wood," wailed the boy,
his face ashen.
"How do you know?"
"I heard him rattle!"
Leon, too, had heard the sound, and would have started after a
poker, intent on killing the reptile, had he not seen Tom shake
his head, a twinkle in his eye.
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