One of the singular facts connected with the crotalus species is the ease with which it is killed. The writer once ended the career of a huge specimen with a single blow of a whip-lash. The first impact of Fred Greenwood's rifle-barrel upon the hideous reptile coiled in the scrub bushes inflicted a fatal wound, though the serpent continued blindly striking for a minute or two longer, and responded viciously to the attack of the scared and angry Jack Dudley, who struck it several times after it had ceased to struggle and all danger was past. A person's first impulse, after being bitten by a snake, is to kill it, after which he looks after the wound he may have received.  
But Fred had heard the dreadful exclamation of his comrade and caught him by his arm as he was about to bring down his last blow upon the reptile.
 
"O Jack, are you sure he bit you?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
 
"Yes; I felt the sting in my left ankle, like the prick of a needle."
 
Dropping upon the ground, he hastily unfastened and turned down his legging. There, sure enough, was a tiny red spot, with a single drop of blood oozing from it.
 
"The rattlesnake has two fangs," said Fred; "but there is only one wound here."
 
"It wasn't a direct blow, I suppose," said the white-faced Jack, who had good reason to be terrified over the occurrence, for the rattlesnake, although ranking below the cobra in the virulence of its venom, is the most deadly serpent in America, and the veteran hunter fears it more than the most savage of wild animals.
 
Fred stooped down and examined the wound closely. A thrilling suspicion was becoming certainty in his mind.
 
"When did you feel that bite?" he asked.
 
"At the moment I landed on my feet. What a dreadful poison it is! I can feel it all through my body; and don't you see that my ankle has begun to swell?"
 
Fred continued to study the wound, pressing his finger around it and bending close to the limb. Had the hurt been caused by the fang of a serpent he would have tried to suck out the venom. Suddenly he looked up with glowing face.
 
"Now, Jack, my dear fellow, don't be frightened; you haven't been bitten at all."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"At the moment you landed on your feet I was beating the life out of the snake, and he was giving his whole attention to me. He did not try to bite you till you turned about and began striking at him."
 
"But what made that wound?" asked Jack.
 
"I suspect the cause."
 
He drew up the legging and examined the part that covered the spot in the ankle which had received the blow.
 
"There! I knew it! That's what did it!"
 
He had plucked out a small, needle-pointed thorn. The bushes abounded with similar prongs, one of which had been torn off and pierced the legging of Jack when he was crashing through the tops of the bushes.
 
"Sure there isn't any mistake about that?" asked the youth, feeling as if a mountain were lifted from his shoulders.
 
"There can't be."
 
"Wait a minute!"
 
With one bound the happy fellow came to his feet, and throwing his arms about his comrade, hugged him into temporary breathlessness.
 
"Thank the Lord! Richard's himself again! The V. W. W. are born to good fortune."
 
And joining hands, the two danced with delight. Many in the situation of Fred Greenwood would have laughed at Jack and "guyed" him over his blunder, but the incident was too dreadful and the terror of his friend too intense for Fred to wish to amuse himself at his expense. However, he could not help indulging just a trifle. Suddenly pausing in his antics he looked down at the feet of Jack.
 
"I suppose in a few minutes your ankle will be so swelled that the buckles will fly off the legging. By this time, too, you must feel the poison in your head."
 
By way of answer, Jack, who, like Fred, had laid aside his Winchester and venison, seized his friend and tried to lay him on his back. They had had many a wrestling bout at home and there was little difference in their skill. Fred was always ready for a test, and he responded with such vigor that before Jack suspected he received an unquestioned fall, since both shoulders and hips were on the ground at the same time, with his conqueror holding him motionless.
 
"It was hardly fair," remarked Fred, allowing him to rise to his feet.
 
"Why not?" asked Jack, also coming up.
 
"The venom of the rattlesnake so weakened you that you are not yourself."
 
"I'll show you whether I am or not!"
 
At it they went again, and this time Jack was the victor, after which they brushed off their clothing and agreed to leave the deciding bout for a more convenient season. Night was rapidly closing in.
 
"That exercise has added to my appetite," remarked Jack, as they gathered up their belongings and moved off.
 
"It would have done the same for me, if the thing were possible."
 
Mindful of the danger of going astray, they carefully studied the landmarks, so far as they could see them. Their main reliance was the lofty peak that was visible for so great a distance, but with that help they saw it growing dark, while they were in a region totally strange to them.
 
"My gracious!" said Fred, as they came to a halt; "in the face of all that Hank told us, we have lost our way!"
 
"It has that look," replied Jack, removing his hat and drawing his handkerchief across his moist forehead; "but I don't see that it is such a serious thing, after all. We can spend the night here as well as anywhere."
 
"What will Hank think, when he goes to camp to meet us?"
 
"I reckon he'll not be disappointed; besides, we can't be far from the place, and can look it up to-morrow."
 
"I don't suppose it will hurt us to build a fire among these rocks and spend the night; but the air is pretty cool and we shall miss our blankets."
 
"Old hunters like ourselves must become used to such things," complacently observed Jack, who began preparations at the same moment for carrying out his own proposal. It was no trouble to find enough brush and wood to serve them, and they had brought such a goodly supply of matches from the ranch in their rubber safes that they soon had a vigorous fire going, over which they broiled their venison.
 
The meal of itself would not have been enjoyable at their home, for it was too "new," lacking a certain tenderness that forms one of its chief attractions. Besides, it was unavoidably scorched in the preparation; but the mixed pepper and salt sprinkled over it improved the flavor. But the great thing was their insatiate appetites, for it is a homely truth that there is no sauce like hunger. So it came about that they not only made a nourishing meal, but had enough left to serve them in the morning.
 
It was fully dark when the repast was finished. The fire had been started against the face of a boulder, and only a small quantity of wood remained—not sufficient to last half through the night. With the going down of the sun the air became colder. It seemed at times as if a breath of wind from the snowy peaks reached them, and it caused an involuntary shiver. The prospect of remaining where they were through the dismal hours of darkness was anything but cheering.
 
"Jack," suddenly said Fred in a guarded undertone, "there's some wild animal near us."
 
"How can you know that?"
 
"I heard him moving about."
 
"In what direction?"
 
"Just beyond the ridge there. Hark! Didn't you hear it?"
 
"You are right," whispered Jack; "let's find out what it is."
 
Gun in hand, they moved stealthily up the slight ridge near by. It was only a few feet in height. Their experience had taught them that danger was likely to break upon them at any time, and they did not mean to be caught unprepared. Neither spoke as they cautiously climbed the ridge, like a couple of Indian scouts on the alert for the first appearance of peril.
 
But they reached the crest of the slight elevation without having heard anything more of that which had alarmed them. The next moment, however, both caught the dim outlines of a large animal moving slowly from them. Before they were certain of its identity the creature neighed, as if frightened by the stealthy approach of the youths.
 
"It's a horse!" exclaimed Fred, who, suspecting the whole truth, moved over the ridge and called, in a coaxing voice:
 
"Dick! Come here, Dick!"
 
The animal stopped, looked inquiringly around, and then came forward with a pleased whinny. He was Fred's pony, and, brief as their acquaintance had been, recognized his voice. Fred stroked his nose and patted his neck, and the horse showed his pleasure at receiving the endearments.
 
When the youths made their halt and cooked their supper they ............