"That's the only rattlesnake on the Range," Tom pursued. "I've been trying to tell Alf that cigarettes are undermining his nerves and making him hear and see things."
Leon unconcernedly overturned the wood-box. Alf, with a yell, ran and jumped upon a stool, standing there, his eyes threatening to pop out from sheer terror.
Leon began to stir the firewood about with his foot.
Click-ick-ick!
Alf howled with terror, and seemed in danger of falling from the stool.
"You'll keep on hearing rattlers, I expect," grunted Reade, "when all the time it's nothing but the snapping of your nerves from smoking cigarettes. The next thing you know your brain will snap utterly."
Click-ick-ick! On his stool Alf danced a mild war-dance from sheer nervousness.
"Come, be like a man, and give up the pests," advised Tom.
"I—-I—-be-believe I will," half agreed the lad.
Click-ick-ick-ick!