I will." "What do you want to do that for ?" murmured Harry.
"Let the poor little runt have his 'makings,' if he wants," Tom proposed.

"But I don't believe that Alf will smoke the little white pests very much longer." "You're going to stop him ?" "I'm going to make him want to stop it himself," Tom rejoined, with a slight grin.
Alf came back, looking much pleased.
"Let me feel your pulse," requested Reade.

"Now, let me see your tongue." This much accomplished, Tom next turned down the under lid of one of young Drew's eyes and gazed at the lack of red there displayed.
"I see," remarked Reade gravely, "that your nerves are going all to pieces." "I feel fine," asserted Alf stolidly.
"You must, with your nerves in the state I now find them," retorted the young engineer.

"Next thing I know you'll be hearing things." Click-ick-ick! "Wow-ow-wow!" shrieked Alf Drew, bounding some ten feet away from the low bush near which he had been standing.
Click-ick-ick-ick! "Get away from that bush, Mr.Reade!" howled the young cigarette fiend.

"That rattler will bite you, if you don't." "I didn't hear any rattler," said Tom gravely.