s
without any let-up ever since supper."

"Well, I have ter," argued Drew.

"And now you smell as fragrant as a gas-house, Alf. Mr. Hazelton
is rather particular about the little matter of cleanliness.
If you were to sleep on his cot the smell of cigarettes would
be so strong that I don't believe Mr. Hazelton could stay on his
cot when it came his time to turn in."

"But say! If you knew how dead, dog-tired I am!" moaned Alf.

"Oh, let him sleep on my cot," interposed Harry, good-heartedly.
"If I can't stand the cot when I come to use it, then it won't
be the first night that I've slept on hard ground and rested well."

"All right, Alf, climb in," nodded Tom. "But see here. Cigarettes
make you as nervous as a lunatic. If you have any bad dreams
tonight, and begin yelling, then I'll rise and throw you outdoors.
Do you understand?"

"Yes," mumbled the boy. "But I won't dream. I'm not nervous
now. It's only when I can't get enough cigs that I'm nervous."

"You should have seen him this afternoon," Tom continued, turning
to his chum. "The lad and I took a walk. At every other step
he kept imagining that he heard rattlesnakes rattling."

"And I did, too," contended Alf stoutly. "You know I did. You
heard 'em yourself, Mr. Reade."

"I didn't hear a single rattler," Tom replied soberly.

"Let the tired little fellow go to bed in peace," urged Harry.

"All right," Tom agreed.

Alf went to the head of the cot, to turn the blanket down from
the head.

Click-ick-ick-ick! came the warning sound.

With a yell of terror Alf Drew bounded back.

"There's another rattler," he screamed. "It's under that blanket."

"It's all your nerves," Tom retorted. "There isn't a rattler
within miles of here."

"Didn't you hear a rattle, Mr. Reade?" wailed the cigarette fiend.

"No; I didn't."

"Didn't you, Mr. Hazelton?"

Harry was on the point of answering "yes," but Tom caught his
eyes, and Harry, knowing that something was up, shook his head.

"You must both be deaf, then," argued Drew.

"Why, see here, you nervous little wreck of a cigarette," said Tom,
grinning good-humoredly, "I'll show you that there is no snake in
that bed. Watch me."

With utmost unconcern, Tom took hold of the blanket, stripping
it from the cot. Then he ran his hands over the under blanket.

"Not a thing in this bed but what belongs here," Tom explained.
"Alf, do you see how cigarettes are taking the hinges off your
nerves."