He could not answer the riddle, and the cold perspiration stood out on his forehead. Was it possible that he must remain a prisoner in the tree forever?
"I've got to get out somehow!" he told himself, desperately. "I must get out!"
Again he felt around, and tried to raise himself by means of his feet. He went up several inches, but that was all, and a moment later slipped down again.
It must be confessed that Shep was now thoroughly alarmed, and he trembled a little as he thought of the possible outcome of this unlookedfor adventure. Perhaps he would have to remain there until he died of hunger and thirst. Long afterwards his friends might find his bones.
Then he thought of crying for help and gave half a dozen shouts.
But no answer came back, for nobody was in that vicinity.
Again he tried to raise himself, and by a mighty effort got up a distance of a foot and a half. But that seemed to be the limit and, utterly exhausted, he dropped back, gasping for breath.
"It's no use," he mused, dismally. "I'm caught in a regular vise."
Then he thought of cutting his way out of the tree and after a long struggle managed to get at his jack-knife. But cutting in the position he occupied was a slow process, and made his hand ache long before he had even a hole through which he might peer.
At last he gave up the attempt and stood still, not knowing what to do next. He felt that he was as good as buried alive. What was to be the outcome of this perilous adventure?