"Hullo, where did ye get the smoke?" asked one of the farmers.
"Ricks is gittin' high-toned," said another. "Fust thing you know"
He got no further, for just then Ricks caught sight of the smoking end of his cigar and his eyes stared wildly.
"What's th—that!" he gasped, and took the cigar from his mouth.
"By gosh! Are ye raisin' snakes, Ricks?" cried one of the farmers.
"Reckon he's struck a nest o' worms!" commented another.
"Wha—what do yo—you think it is?" groaned Ricks. He was so amazed that he could do little but stare at the cigar, from the end of which a snake-like curl was issuing, larger and larger.
"Where did you buy that cigar?" asked one of the farmers.
"Didn't buy it—Tom Rover gave it to me!'* answered Ricks. "Say, this is a put-up job!" he roared, and dashed the cigar to the ground. "Where is that imp, anyway?"
"Good-bye, Mr. Ricks!" sang out Tom from the carriage. "Hope you enjoy that smoke."
"You come back here!" stormed the station master. "Just you let me get my fingers on you,
