“Mad!” roared the little man, gathering courage, as he saw nothing of the rat. “Who wouldn’t be mad to have a slimy serpent strike at him, and then be attacked by a red-eyed rat?”
“Too bad! too bad!” sighed Frank. “I fear he will become violent. We must send for a doctor immediately.”
“Doctor!” howled Scotch. “I don’t want a doctor. I tell you I’m all right! But I know when I see a snake and a rat. The snake hissed at me, and the rat tried to get on my hand.”
“It is a very bad case,” came soberly from Frank, while Ephraim turned his head to hide a broad grin.
Scotch got on his feet, and danced around like a maniac.
“Confound it all!” he shouted. “There’s nothing the matter with me! I am all right! I know what I see!”
Frank followed him up, patted him on the back, caressed his hand, and said, soothingly:
“Of course you know—to be sure you do. There was a whole drove of snakes, and more than a hundred rats.”
“No, there wasn’t!” snarled the little man, grinding his teeth. “Don’t tell me that! Think I’m a fool?”
“Too bad!” sighed Frank, giving Ephraim a lugubrious look that nearly convulsed the lad from Vermont. “This is the way with them every time. Now he is sure he didn’t see any snakes and rats. That is proof positive that he is in a dangerous condition. Wouldn’t it be terrible if we found it necessary to have him taken in charge and cared for constantly?”