“That's stretching it some,” laughed Tom. “That tree hasn't been toppled over an hour.”
“Huh! Ye can't tell me nothin' 'beout that!” declared Toby. “I was right here when it happened.”
“Goodness!” gasped Nan.
“Yep. And lemme tell ye, I only jest 'scaped being knocked down when she fell.”
“My!” murmured Nan again.
“That's how I got inter this muck hole,” growled the old lumberman. “I jumped ter dodge the tree, and landed here.”
“Why don't you wade ashore?” demanded Tom again, preparing in a leisurely manner to cast the old man the end of a line he had coiled on the timber cart.
“Yah!” snarled Toby. “Why don't Miz' Smith keep pigs? Don't ax fool questions, Tommy, but gimme holt on that rope. I'm afraid ter let go the branch, for I'll sink, and if I try ter pull myself up by it, the whole blamed tree'll come down onter me. Ye see how it's toppling?”
It was true that the fallen tree was in a very precarious position. When Toby stirred at all, the small weight he rested on the branch made the head of the tree dip perilously. And if it did fall the old man would be thrust into the quagmire by the weight of the branches which overhung his body.
“Let go of it, Toby!” called Tom, accelerating his motions. “Catch this!”