gone by that name, and supposed that once it was a regular rattlesnake den."
"Why, yes," interrupted Jud Elderkin; "one man told me he remembered when there was a queer chap lived up here, a cripple too, who in those days used to put in all his time hunting rattlesnakes for their skins, which were used to make pocketbooks and slippers and belts out of; and he sold the oil, too."
"Oil?" exclaimed Bobolink, "now, what do you mean by that? Do they use it for lamps, or watches, like they do porpoise oil?"
"How about that, Wallace?" asked Paul, seeing that the reader of the Carberry Twins gave evidence of possessing knowledge along those lines.
"Good for rheumatism, they say," observed Wallace; "athletes also use it to limber up their limbs. It has a commercial value. Some men make a business of hunting rattlesnakes pretty much all the year."
"Excuse me from the job then," said Bobolink, making a wry face. "Ugh! I hate the sight of a snake! Say, you don't think there might be a little bunch of the nasty scaly monsters left over from the old cripple's hunt, do you, Paul?"
"I hope we won't run across any," returned the patrol leader, soberly; "for it's no fun getting struck by the fangs of a rattlesnake. I've
never had that bad luck, and I give you my word I'm not hankering after an experience, either."
"But then it might happen to one of us," retorted Bobolink; "and as a wise general I hope you've thought of bringing a gallon or two of strong drink along. That seems to be the only thing that can save a poor fellow when he's been jabbed by one of these twisters; anyhow, that's what I've read about it."
"You're away off then, Bobolink," laughed Paul; "for we haven't a drop of liquor in camp. There's a better way to counteract a snake bite; and I intend telling the whole troop when we gather at lunch to-day, as well as distribute some little packets I made up, under my father's directions."