"I ain't goin' to let no snake bite me an' get away with it!" But he now smiled guiltily, embarrassment shining in his eyes.

"I reckon that wasn't the snake that bit you, Ferguson," he said.

"The one that bit you is back on the trail.

He ain't goin' to die till sundown.

Not till sundown," he repeated mechanically, grimly; "Ferguson ain't goin' to die till sundown." He rode on, giving no attention to the pony whatever, but letting the reins fall and holding to the pommel of the saddle.