"Amos!" he said, shaking his friend's shoulder, "it's time for me to go. Are you awake?"
Amos blinked a few times and said he thought so.
"Then listen to me," Chris told him earnestly, "and listen hard!" Amos sat up more alertly.
"I have a handy thing here which is for you to use only—do you hear? only if I don't come back."
Amos's eyes began to get brighter and he swallowed.
"Don't come back? Law! Chris, don't you leave me in this heathen country where nobody understands good English!" he cried. "Why, unless I'd steal, and Miss Becky told me never to do that—but unless I did, how could I eat in these foreign parts?"
Chris sat back on his haunches. "Well, I don't know how you could, myself. But don't you cross any bridges until you come to them. Look." He held out the folded balloon. "If I'm not back by two sunups from now—I may have to hide all during tomorrow—if I'm not back by then, put this package out beyond the trees in the clearing. That's very important. You've got that?"
"I haven't got anything but a few old dried-up fruits," Amos pouted. "That's all."
"No, Amos!" Chris gave him another rousing shake. "I mean, do you understand that much?"
Amos brightened at once and broke into a broad grin.