was as dead as dead could be.

"What's the use, Jim?" called Hastings, who had hastened to return upon
hearing his wild shout; "he's gone under; did he bite you?"

"Yes," replied the other, in a husky voice staggering backward and
sinking to the ground; "he bit me twice before I seed him; I'm done
for."

CHAPTER IX.

THE "ACCIDENT."

It would seem that the pioneers had more than enough to occupy their
minds on this eventful journey through the woods, without coming in
contact with such a frightful thing as a rattlesnake, but here was one
of the hardy members of the escort apparently stricken unto death by the
huge reptile that he had just slain.

By the time the poor fellow had collapsed and fallen to the earth,
almost the entire party were gathered around him. That section of the
Union, even in those early days, was not wholly lacking in whiskey.
There may not have been a great deal of it manufactured in the
territory, but those who made their homes in that favored land did not
often suffer for lack of it.

Flasks there were in plenty, but it was noticeable that not one of the
rangers who had come from the fort made haste to bring forth a supply
and place it at the lips of their collapsed companion.

It was Mr. Altman who was quick to kneel beside the man and apply the
vessel to his mouth, as he raised him to a sitting position.

"Don't you remember, George," said Agnes, "that Mr. Kenton said we must
meet with some accident that would prevent our reaching Rattlesnake
Gulch until night was fully come?"

"I do."

"Well, that's the accident we have met."

A light flashed upon young Ashbridge. The amused expression on the faces
of the escort was explained. James Deane had not been harmed by the
rattlesnake which he had pounded to death. As is said, all this was done
for effect.

The most real thing about the business was that Jim was procuring a
prodigious supply of excellent whiskey without any expense to himself,
and without any cause existing for such an over-dose.

Seeing the actual danger that threatened their friend, Hastings touched
the shoulder of Mr. Altman, who looked up inquiringly at him.

"I wouldn't give him any more."

"It will be safer to fill him up with it, so as to counteract the
poison."

"Yesh--fill him up," added Jim, thickly, reaching out his hand vaguely
for the bottle; "fill him up--coun'act--hic--p'son--fill him up so he
runs over."

"I think, Tom, he's running ove