ll right, if I get it. But you keep away from me,
Bumpus. Once before, you fell all over me, just when I was on the point
of grabbing a spark. If you know what's good for you, keep clear of me
now. I'm desperately in earnest, I tell you. So be warned, Bumpus!"

The fat scout realized that if he knew what was good for him he had
better give Giraffe a wide berth while he was strumming away with his
"old fiddle," as some of the boys sneeringly described the fire outfit
that continually refused to "fire" even a little bit.

"I'm going to look for a good tree," he said.

"All right, go, and climb up in it, good and hard," Giraffe answered
pettishly; "but unless you want to get lost, don't you dare go out of
sight of this place. Call if you lose sight of me, Bumpus, d'ye hear? I
don't want Thad to say I didn't keep an eye on you; but this is a
business that must be attended to."

All the while he was sawing away as if his very life depended upon
bringing the ordeal to a successful termination; and possibly Giraffe
thought it did.

So Bumpus began to look around him.

He realized that the tall pines were rather out of the question so far
as affording them a chance to climb up; and that he must find some tree
of a different type, with low branches.

It was not hard to find such a retreat in the shape of a thick hemlock,
with its glossy green foliage that had such a delightful scent. Bumpus
knew it well, because on numerous occasions the scouts had plucked
masses of similar "browse," to make the ground feel easier where they
slept.

If they had to climb a tree as a last resort, this hemlock would offer
all the advantages they wished. Why, Bumpus could even remember how Eli
had told of an adventure that had befallen him along somewhat similar
lines; and how in order not to fall from his perch in the crotch of a
tree, he tied himself there by means of some stout cord he happened to
have along.

Bumpus felt all through his pockets again, and was grievously
disappointed not to discover a hank of fishing cord.

"Seems like I'm just out of everything that a feller's apt to want when
he gets in a bad pickle like this," he grumbled. "Ketch me bein' in such
a hole again. Why, I'm goin' to make it the point of my life to always
carry a plenty of matches along; and a line that would be strong enough
to hold a feller, if I had to use it. How would Jim fished up his gun,
and shot them wolves, like he told us, if so be he didn't t