“You saw him run and climb that tree; you heard how he yelled. Now what do you think? Could a dying man do that?”
“N–no,” I faltered. “What does it all mean, then?”
“Pig!” said the doctor, smiling; “the gluttonous dog ate till he could not stir. He had as much as anybody else, and then waited his chance, and when every one was lying down he began upon the store of dried strips.”
“Jimmy terribull sorry, Mass Joe,” came from up the tree.
“He behaved like a boa constrictor, and then alarmed us all horribly instead of confessing the truth. Why, my dear boy, do you suppose I should have been so cruel to a sick man?”
“You black rascal!” I cried, looking up at Jimmy, who howled like a dog.
“Jimmy come down now! Never do so no more.”
“Only let me have a turn at you,” I said, and he immediately began to climb higher.
“Here, you come down, sir,” I shouted.
For answer he climbed higher and higher till he was pretty well out of sight among the small branches in the top of the tree.