Ned threshed his way to them, then he, too, burst out into a roar of laughter.
“Ha, ha!” mocked Chunky. “That’s right. Never mind me. I’m only the fat boy, taken along to do stunts to make the rest of you laugh. I’m quite comfortable, thank you. I can stand on my head here for any old length of time. Have your laugh out, then shoot me! I don’t want to die a lingering death.”
“I’ll lift him up. You get the foot out, Ned,” directed Tad.
This was not so easily accomplished. Butler tried different ways of doing this, but each time the fat boy’s yells made him stop short. Every attempt to lift Stacy gave his foot a wrench, bringing forth a howl.
“Let me have your hatchet,” demanded Tad. Ned passed it over.
“What are you going to do? Going to chop my leg off?” demanded Stacy.
“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt but a moment.”
“Pro-o-o-o-fessor!”
“Keep still, you ninny! We aren’t going to hurt you,” growled Ned.
Tad was already hacking at the tree, which 158was small, but very tough. Every blow brought a yell from the fat boy. He couldn’t have made much more racket had his companions in reality been amputating the leg itself.