is, I thought, was an exceptional case, I badly wanted a bushel
or two of shellbarks, and I knew full well that, unless they were
gathered that afternoon, they wouldn't be gathered at all; for bright
and early the next morning all the boys in the neighborhood would be
down in Big Woods, armed with clubs and baskets and sacks, and even the
squirrels would stand a poor show after that invasion.

In our selfishness, we never thought that other people might have a
fondness for shellbarks as well as ourselves. So, after a little more
pleading on Ned's part, I gave in, and we agreed to meet down at the
foot of our orchard, as soon as dinner was over, for Ned lived right
across, on the next farm. In a corner of the barn, I found my old
chestnut club, a hickory stave, well coiled with lead at the top.
Shoving this under my jacket, so no prying eyes could see it, I joined
Ned at the meeting-place, and off we went in high spirits for the
Yellow-breeches.

It was a good mile to Big Woods, for we had to circle away down to
Hake's Mill to get across the creek, but we felt well repaid for our
trouble when we arrived there. The fallen nuts lay thick amid the dead
leaves, and up on the half-naked trees the splitting hulls hung in
clusters, willing to drop their burden at the least rustle of the
breeze.

We heaped the shellbarks in great piles, ready to stow away in Ned's
big wheat bag; and, when the ground was cleaned up pretty well, and the
leaves had been thoroughly raked, we turned our attention to a close
cluster of trees that stood close by the creek. These nuts were
unusually large, and thin-shelled. The hulls were cracked apart, but
very few nuts lay on the ground, so I hauled out my club, and drove it
fairly into the heart of the tree. A shower of nuts came down, with a
merry clatter that gladdened our hearts; but the club, striking the
trunk of the tree, bounded sideways and lodged in the crotch of a limb
overhanging the creek, some twenty or thirty feet above the water.

Here was a dilemma. I didn't want to lose that club, for it had done
good service in past autumns, and had gone through a great many
hairbreadth escapes.

If we tried to dislodge it by hurling sticks or stones, it would fall
into the water, and just at that point the creek was very deep, and
moreover, as popular tradition held, a treacherous undertow existed
which would render the recovery of the club impossible.

"Climb the tree, Jack," said Ne