one limb higher."

In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the
seventh limb was attained.

"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to work
your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see anything
strange, let me know."

By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor
friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but to
conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious
about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be
done, Jupiter's voice was again heard.

"Mos' feerd for to ventur' 'pon dis limb berry far--'tis dead limb
putty much all de way."

"Did you say it was a _dead_ limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand, in a
quavering voice.

"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail--done up for sartain--done
departed dis here life."

"What in the name of heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly in
the greatest distress.

"Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, "why, come
home and go to bed. Come now!--that's a fine fellow. It's getting
late, and, besides, you remember your promise."

"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear
me?"

"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain,"

"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it
_very_ rotten."

"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few moments,
"but not so berry rotten as mought be, Mought ventur' out leetle way
'pon de limb by myself, dat's true."

"By yourself! What do you mean?"

"Why, I mean de bug. 'Tis _berry_ hebby bug. S'pose I drop him down
fust, and den de limb won't break wid just de weight of one nigger."

"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved,
"what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you
drop that beetle, I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you
hear me?"

"Yes, massa, needn' hollo at poor nigger dat style."

"Well!--now listen! if you will venture out on the limb as far as you
think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present of a
silver dollar as soon as you get down."

"I'm gwine, Massa Will--deed I is," replied the negro very
promptly--"mos' out to de eend now."

"_Out to the end_!" here fairly screamed Legrand; "do you say you are
out to the end of that limb?"

"Soon be to de eend, massa--o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-marcy! what _is_ dis
here 'pon de tree?"

"Well," cried