The whistle again, quite near me, apparently out of the air.
“Bring a lantern,” came a whisper.
I got it and came back and down the steps to the path, holding up my light and peering about in search of the voice.
“Where are you? I can’t see you at all.”
“Right here—look—here—up!” The voice was almost over my head.
I searched the dark masses of the tree—oh, yes! the lantern revealed the heel of a shoe in a crotch, and above,—yes, undoubtedly, the rest of Jonathan, stretched out along a limb.
“Oh! What are you doing up there?”
“Get me a long stick—hoe—clothes-pole—anything [pg 066] I can poke with. Quick! The cat’s up here. I can hear her, but I can’t see her.”
I found the rake and reached it up to him. From the dark beyond him came a distressed mew.
“Now the lantern. Hang it on the teeth.” He drew it up to him, then, rake in one hand and lantern in the other, proceeded to squirm out along the limb.