MAX PLAYS THE GOOD SAMARITAN.
Max instantly dropped his sack of shellfish.
He had picked up a good stout stick, which he used as a cane while walking, poking ahead in every clump of bushes where it was possible a snake might lie coiled up in waiting.
Bandy-legs had followed suit, and he, too, flourished a substantial hickory staff, which looked capable of doing good work in a pinch.
"Now where did you see all this?" asked Max.
"Over yonder where that thick vine crawls all over things," came the quivering answer.
"All right; let's investigate then," suggested Max, as he took a bold forward step.
At this demonstration Bandy-legs gasped.
"Say, are you really going to tackle him, Max?"
"Oh! I don't know," replied the other, carelessly, yet with a firm ring to his voice, and a determined look on his face. "If he's lying in wait to ambush us, we might as well turn the tables around, and start the ball rolling ourselves."