Then, directly beneath him, the dog began to leap and bark, showing a shining lot of very savage-looking teeth.
Of a sudden Uric began to fear his trousers would not prove strong enough to sustain him, and that he would fall into the waiting jaws of the animal below. He tried to squirm about and get hold of the limb, but found this was a difficult or impossible thing to do. He heard a boyish voice crying:
"Tige—here, Tige!"
The dog barked still more fiercely, if possible.
"Hey, you Tige!" called the voice. "What are you doing there?"
"Help!" cried Uric. "Come quick and call your old dog off! Help! Help!"
"Hello!" shouted the boy, as he crashed nearer. "Tige’s got something treed."
Then into view came a ragged, freckled, snub-nosed chap of fourteen, carrying an old-fashioned muzzle-loading shotgun. The youngster stopped and stared at Uric in amazement, holding the gun as if ready to shoot.
"Jiminy!" he ejaculated.
"What ails you?" snapped Uric angrily. "Take your dog away, will you?"