e--ah! that was another thing. I
eventually succeeded in doing it however, and placing the whistle between
my lips, put forth my hand to recover my rifle, when, to my horror and
dismay, I saw, within four feet of my face, a huge rattlesnake.

To say that I got up, don't half express it, boys. I bounded as man
never bounded before, startling deer, fawn, and everything else about me,
but the snake. He didn't seem to care a particle, but retained his
position near the rifle, looking as angry as if he thought me to blame
for jumping; and the worst of it was, there was neither stick nor stone
within sight, that I could get hold of.

I said, "Shoo!" but the snake wouldn't shoo worth a cent. I stamped on
the ground, and said, "Get out!" but he wouldn't move. There he was,
within six inches of my rifle; his long, slender body partially coiled so
that he could easily strike any object approaching; with form erect, and
long forked tongue, darting in and out of his half-opened mouth, as his
flat, ugly head slowly vibrated to and fro like the pendulum of a clock.

It was growing dark too, and I was a long distance from camp, and the
country was full of Mescalero Apaches, and I hadn't even a stick to reach
him with. What could I do?

I bethought myself of my powder-flask, and taking good aim, hurled it
with all the force I could muster. It struck him fairly on the body and
with a rattle of defiance, he sprang towards me, and I--well, I jumped.

I managed to get hold of my rifle, but the snake was gone: he was
somewhere in the grass about me, and I didn't know where; so I concluded
to stand not on the order of my going, but go at once to camp, and go I
did; but, before I was a hundred yards away I remembered that I had left
my powder-flask behind. Nor could I find Nat's whistle anywhere about me,
or even remember what I had done with it. In the surprise occasioned by
my discovery of the snake, I had dropped it.

It was too dark to think of returning to search for it that night;
besides, there was a snake loose in the vicinity that I didn't care to
encounter.

I knew Nat would laugh at my returning without a deer, but I made up my
mind to endure that, without getting angry; for I felt confident, camp
was the place for me just then.

Nat asked no questions; but after a time, I voluntarily related to him
the mishaps of the afternoon. He laughed heartily, and promised to go
with me in the morning and give me a practical lesson in