herds of elk
around Santa Rosa. Some time we'll go there, Billy. I've always wanted
to."

"And when my father was a young man, somewhere up north of Sacramento,
in a creek called Cache Slough, the tules was full of grizzliest He used
to go in an' shoot 'em. An' when they caught 'em in the open, he an'
the Mexicans used to ride up an' rope them--catch them with lariats, you
know. He said a horse that wasn't afraid of grizzlies fetched ten times
as much as any other horse An' panthers!--all the old folks called 'em
painters an' catamounts an' varmints. Yes, we'll go to Santa Rosa some
time. Maybe we won't like that land down the coast, an' have to keep on
hikin'."

By this time the fire had died down, and Saxon had finished brushing and
braiding her hair. Their bed-going preliminaries were simple, and in a
few minutes they were side by side under the blankets. Saxon closed her
eyes, but could not sleep. On the contrary, she had never been more wide
awake. She had never slept out of doors in her life, and by no exertion
of will could she overcome the strangeness of it. In addition, she
was stiffened from the long trudge, and the sand, to her surprise, was
anything but soft. An hour passed. She tried to believe that Billy was
asleep, but felt certain he was not. The sharp crackle of a dying ember
startled her. She was confident that Billy had moved slightly.

"Billy," she whispered, "are you awake?"

"Yep," came his low answer, "--an' thinkin' this sand is harder'n a
cement floor. It's one on me, all right. But who'd a-thought it?"

Both shifted their postures slightly, but vain was the attempt to escape
from the dull, aching contact of the sand.

An abrupt, metallic, whirring noise of some nearby cricket gave Saxon
another startle. She endured the sound for some minutes, until Billy
broke forth.

"Say, that gets my goat whatever it is."

"Do you think it's a rattlesnake?" she asked, maintaining a calmness she
did not feel.

"Just what I've been thinkin'."

"I saw two, in the window of Bowman's Drug Store An' you know, Billy,
they've got a hollow fang, and when they stick it into you the poison
runs down the hollow."

"Br-r-r-r," Billy shivered, in fear that was not altogether mockery.
"Certain death, everybody says, unless you're a Bosco. Remember him?"

"He eats 'em alive! He eats 'em alive! Bosco! Bosco!" Saxon responded,
mimicking the cry of a side-show barker. "Just the same, all Bosco's
rattlers had th