The Boy Scouts in the Rockies; Or, The Secret of the Hidden Silver Mine

E-text prepared by Larry B. Harrison and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)


The stubborn jack stood, with his sturdy legs braced like steel, while the taut rope told that Smithy must be dangling at the other end.
The Boy Scouts in the Rockies.

How is the cripple crowd coming on these days? Hello! Step Hen, any more snake bites? Hope you're not limping with that other leg, now?
I should say not, Thad. But I'm always going to believe you did a lot to keep the poison from getting into my system, when you sucked that wound.
And how about your game limb, Giraffe—was it the right, or the left you bruised so badly on the stones when you fell?
The left one, Thad; but thank goodness it's healing up just prime, now. That magic salve did the business in great shape, I tell you.
Allan, I notice that you still have a halt once in a while. That old bear trap sure took a nasty grip on your leg, didn't it, though?
It gave me an ugly pinch, Mr. Scout Master; and only for the fact of the springs being so weak and rusty that the owners had abandoned the trap, I might have been lame for three months. The witch hazel liniment you rubbed on helped a lot.