Miss Mattie spoke of sleeping upstairs, because she could not rid herself of the fear of somebody coming in.

“I know just how you feel about that,” said Red.  “My hair used to be on its feet most of the time when we were in the hay camp at the lake beds.  Gee whizz!  The rattlers!  We put hair ropes around—­but them rattlers liked to squirm over hair ropes for exercise.  One morning I woke up and there was a crawler on my chest.  ‘For God’s sake, Pete!’ says I to Antelope Pete, who was rolled up next me, ‘come take my friend away!’ and I didn’t holler very loud, neither.  Pete was chain lightning in pants, and he grabs Mr. Rattler by the tail and snaps his neck, but I felt lonesome in my inside till dinner time.  You bet!  I know just how you feel, exactly.  I didn’t have a man’s sized night’s rest whilst we was in that part of the country.”

It struck Miss Mattie that the cases were hardly parallel.  “A rattlesnake on your chest, Will!” she cried, with her hands clasped in terror.

“Oh! it wasn’t as bad as it sounds—­he was asleep—­coiled up there to get warm—­sharpish nights on the prairie in August—­but darn it!  Mattie!” wrinkling up his nose in disgust, “I hate the sight of the brutes!”

“But you wouldn’t be afraid of a man, Will!”

“Well, no,” admitted he.  “I’ve never been troubled much that way.  You see, everybody has a different fear to throw a crimp in them.  Mine’s rattlesnakes and these little bugs with forty million pairs of legs.  I pass right out when I see one of them things.  They give me a feeling as if my stummick had melted.”

“Weren’t the Indians terrible out there, too?” asked Miss Mattie.  “I’m sure they must have been.”

“Oh, they ain’t bad people if you use ’em right,” said Red.  “Not that I like ’em any better on the ground, than in it,” he added hastily, fearful of betraying the sentiment of his country, “but I never had but one real argument, man to man.  Black Wolf and I come together over a matter of who owned my cayuse, and from words we backed off and got to shooting.  He raked me from knee to hip, as I was kneeling down, doing the best I could by him, and wasting ammunition because I was in a hurry.  Still, I did bust his ankle.  In the middle of the fuss a stray shot hit the cayuse in the head and he croaked without a remark, so there we were, a pair of fools miles from home with nothing left to quarrel about!  You could have fried an egg on a rock that day, and it always makes you thirsty to get shot anyways serious, thinking of which I hollered peace to old Black Wolf and told him I’d pull straws with him to see who took my canteen down to the creek and got some fresh water.  He was agreeable and we hunched up to each other.  It ain’t to my credit to say it, but I was worse hurt than that Injun, so I worked him.  He got the short straw, and had to crawl a mile through cactus, while I sat comfortable on the cause of the disagreement and yelled to him