Leon, too, had heard the sound, and would have started after a poker, intent on killing the reptile, had he not seen Tom shake his head, a twinkle in his eye.
"There are no rattlesnakes about in the dead of winter on this
Range," Tom declared positively.
"That one has been keeping hisself warm in the bottom of the wood-box," insisted Alf.
Click-ick-ick!
"There, didn't you hear it?" quivered the cigarette fiend.
"I heard no rattler," declared Tom, innocently. "Did you, Leon?"
The cook thought, to be sure that he had heard one, but he caught the cue from Reade and answered in the negative.
"Go and turn the wood-box out, Leon, to show the young man that there's no snake there," Tom requested.
Just then that task was hardly welcome to the cook, but he was a man of nerve, and, in addition, he reasoned that Reade must know what he was talking about. So Leon crossed the room with an air of unconcern.
"Here's your rattlesnake, I reckon," growled the cook, picking up Alf's dropped cigarette and tossing it toward the boy.