“I wish I had one now,” sighed the younger boy.

“A rattlesnake?” Tom inquired innocently.

“No—–­of course not!  A cigarette.”

“But you’re going to forget those soul-destroying little coffin-nails,” Reade suggested.  “You’re going to become a man and act like one.  You’re going to learn how much more fun it is to have your lungs filled with pure air instead of stifling cigarette smoke.”

“Maybe I am!” muttered the boy.

“Oh, yes; I’m sure of it,” said Reade cheerfully.

Cl-cl-cl-click!

“O-o-o-ow!” shrilled Alf, jumping at least two feet.

“Now, what’s the matter with you?” inquired Tom in feigned astonishment.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hear the rattler just now,” cried young Drew fiercely.

“No; I didn’t,” Tom assured him.  “And how could we find a rattler—­here?  We’re crossing open ground now.  There is no place within three hundred feet of us for a rattlesnake to move without our seeing him.”

Cl-cl-cl-click!

Alf Drew held back, trembling.

“I’m not going forward another step,” he insisted.  “This ground is full of rattlers.”

“Let’s go back to camp, then, if your nerves are so unstrung,” Reade proposed.

They turned, starting backward.  Again the warning rattle sounded, seemingly just in front of Alf, though there was no place for a snake to conceal itself nearby.

Alf, however, turned paler still, halted and started off at right angles to his former course.  Again the rattle sounded.

“Hear that snake?” demanded young Drew.

“No; and there isn’t one,” Tom assured him.  “Why will you be so foolish—–­so nervous?  In other words, why do you destroy your five senses with cigarettes in this fashion?”

Cl-cl-click!

Alf Drew halted, trembling so that he could hardly stand.

“I’m going to quit camp—–­going to get out of this place,” he shivered.  “The ground is full of rattlers.  O-o-o-oh!  There’s another tuning up.”

Tom laughed covertly.  The disturbing sound came again.

“I never saw a place like this part of the range,” Alf all but sobbed, his breath catching.  “Oh, won’t I be glad to see a city again!”

“Just so you can find a store where you can buy cigarettes?” Tom Reade queried.

“I wish I had one, now,” moaned the young victim.  “It would steady me.”

“The last ones that you smoked didn’t appear to steady you,” the young engineer retorted.  “Just see how unstrung you are.  Every step you take you imagine you hear rattlers sounding their warning.”

“Do you tell me, on your sacred honor,” proposed Alf, “that you haven’t heard a single rattler this afternoon?”

“I give you my most solemn word that I haven’t,” Tom answered.  “Come, come, Alf!  What you want to do is to shake off the trembles.  Let me take your arm.  Now, walk briskly with me.  Inflate your chest with all the air you can get in as we go along.  Just wait and see if that isn’t the way to shake off these horrid cigarette dreams.”