“Snakes! well, Step Hen, you’re away off, if you think they’re ever found out, with the weather as biting as it is right now!” laughed Thad; who sized up the situation instantly, and knew full well there was nothing of the sort the matter with his hunting companion.
“Well, anyway, something gave me a bite, and you can see the blood on my hand right now, Thad,” whined Step Hen, crawling once more into view, and looking as though he could not be convinced to the contrary of his statement, just because of a little frost.
He held up his left hand as he spoke. Thad took hold of it, and with those keen eyes of his, managed to grapple with the facts immediately.
“You only managed to strike up against a sliver of wood, and got a splinter in your hand,” he declared; “see here, I can show you,” saying which he used the nails of his finger and thumb for a forceps, and drew out a little splinter that had pushed under the skin, just far enough to bring a drop or two of blood, and give Step Hen a sharp pain.
“Oh! thank you, Thad!” exclaimed the other, as though vastly relieved. “You see, I just detest all kinds of crawlers the worst kind; and that talk about rattlers, and the bounty paid for their tails, must have been hanging on my mind. When I felt that sudden sharp jab, of course the first thing that flashed into my brain was that I’d tumbled on the nest of a rattlesnake, and he took me for one of the bounty jumpers. But only a sliver of wood–huh, I can stand that easy enough.”
“Suck it good and plenty,” advised the far seeing Thad. “I always do as soon as I get a cut of any kind, and especially if it’s a splinter. Sometimes it keeps you from getting poison in your system, that makes a bad sore.”
Step Hen obediently did as he was told. At least he had implicit confidence in the patrol leader, and was ready to follow his advice under the slightest provocation. That was a feather in the cap of Thad Brewster, in that he possessed the full confidence of his comrades. They believed in him, and were never in a state of mutiny concerning the orders he gave, as leader of the Silver Fox Patrol.
Once more the two boys tramped on. Thad thought it might be as well to impart a little useful information concerning the dormant condition of all snakes during winter time; and how many a bunch of the wrigglers he had found, while the cold season was on, looking as though they were frozen stiff.
This information he imparted in almost a whisper as they moved along. When out looking for deer, a muffler on speech is of paramount importance; and knowing all about this, Thad soon relapsed into silence.
“Tell you more some other time, Step Hen,” he remarked as a wind-up; “that is, if you care to hear more about snakes. No matter how you dislike the breed, you really ought to know more than you seem to, about their habits. It might be the means of saving you from trouble some fine day, when, by accident, you happen to run across some reptile in the woods. And now we’ll forget all that. I’m not going to say another word, unless I have to.”