“You always try to get the best of everything.”
Then they sat down upon the supposed log. To their utter surprise and ultimate horror, the log began to twist and turn.
“Whoopee!” yelled Tom, leaping six feet, it seemed, into the air, “it’s a snake!” Jim rose more slowly, but very pale. He was deeply moved, not to say frightened. “Sancte Maria, Sancte Sebastina!” seemed the words issuing from the muffled folds of the blanket. Jim tore it off and there was the Mexican whom Jo had had the round-up with.
“What!” cried Jim; “who is this?” Jeems’ head was now looking between the flaps of the tent, into which he had dived headfirst when the log came to life.
“It’s one of the gang that has been trailing us,” cried Jeems.
Jo was rolling around in paroxysms of laughter.
“Whoopee!” he cried in imitation of brother Tom, “it’s a snake,” then he went off into another fit.
“You durned idiot,” yelled the incensed Tom, “shut up laughing. I guess that fellow is a snake. You might have scared me into breaking a blood vessel.”
“I came near scaring you into breaking the record for the high jump,” panted Jo, weak from laughter.
“But where did you capture this specimen, Jo?” asked Jim with a quiet smile. To tell the truth he was somewhat chagrined, for he could not deny even to himself that he had been badly frightened by Jo’s trick.