"Buddy," said his Mother, "do you think you could go down to the edge of the Fir thicket and get me some more Fir tips for the Porch pillows?"
"Why, yes, Mother, of course I can, and I will, too, just as soon as I have fed my rabbits," said Buddy Jim.
"That's a good son," said Mother, "and you'd better go around to the kitchen and ask Mary the maid for a basket and some blunt-pointed scissors. And be careful about poison ivy, son; there's a bunch of it down near the edge of the Fir thicket that Bob the gardener has not had time to destroy."
"Don't worry, Mother," said Buddy Jim, "I know that stuff when I see it, and I'll be sure to keep away from it." And the little boy whistled to Old Dog Sandy to come along, happy that he had found something to do.
It was lots of fun running across the fields to the woods. The grass was long and wet with the dew of the morning, and it curled around Buddy Jim's little bare legs just as though it loved to have little bare-legged boys wade through it. Old Dog Sandy thought it was wonderful to chase the big gray Grasshoppers that flew up in all directions, with a ch-r-r-r, that sounded just like a pin-wheel on the Fourth of July.
Pretty soon they came to the Fir thicket, where all the young Fir trees were standing like tall young ladies in pale green dresses ready to go to church on a Sunday morning.
Buddy began carefully to cut off the pale green tips of the boughs as his Mother had shown him, while Old Dog Sandy roamed through the bushes amusing himself.
Buddy Jim's basket was almost full of the fragrant Fir tips, and he was just going to whistle for Old Dog Sandy, to come home with him, when there was a dreadful commotion from inside of the Fir thicket. It was Old Dog Sandy barking for all he was worth, in a way that Buddy knew meant, "Come here, quickly, and see what I've found!"
So Buddy Jim put his basket down and ran into the Fir thicket, where he found Old Dog Sandy doing his best to climb an old dead Fir tree, which was much taller than the rest of the trees, at the same time barking his very fiercest at something that was perched up on a limb of the tree. Something that was very much alive, and looked like a big round pin-cushion stuck full of pins, points up.
"Hello!" said Buddy Jim, "What's the matter here?" "Matter enough, I should say," chattered a very indignant little voice, "and you'd better call off that foolish old dog of yours if you want to save him trouble. He'll be a sorry dog if he bites me!"