"
Bob had, meanwhile, opened some of the bundles. One of these contained
a small coffee pot, as well as the frying pan without which camping
would be a failure in the minds of most Western boys.
"Look out for rattlers," advised Frank, as his chum went to the spring
hole to fill the coffee pot. "They often come to such places in dry
season We haven't had rain for so long now, that, when it does come, I
expect a regular cloud-burst. That's often the way in this queer
country, along the foothills of the Rockies."
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded a sudden and angry whirr,
similar to the noise made by a locust, and which Frank knew only too
well meant a rattlesnake!
CHAPTER V
THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN
"Hey! take care there, Bob!" shouted Frank, starting up from beside his
little cooking fire in something of a panic; for that alarm signal is
apt to send the blood bounding through the veins like mad, whenever
heard.
"Don't bother!" came the reassuring reply of the unseen Bob, from a
point near by; "I think I've got the beggar located, all right. Say,
don't he sing though, to beat all creation? He's mad clean through,
all right. I'm looking for a stick, so as to knock him on the head."
"Go slow, and keep your eye out for a second one," advised Frank,
uneasily; "because they generally hunt in couples. That isn't a measly
little prairie rattler either; but a fellow that's come down from
Thunder Mountain.
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