Bart hesitated for a few moments as he reloaded his rifle, and then he shouted to Sam:
“Now, no nonsense, Sam. You must get back.”
The man paid no heed to him, and Bart turned to Joses to say loudly:
“We can’t leave him here like this. He must climb back or fall, so if he won’t climb back the sooner he is out of his misery the better.”
“That’s a true word,” said Joses.
“Give me your axe then,” said Bart, and Joses drew it from his belt, when Bart took it, and after moistening his hands, drove it into the branch just where it touched the tree, making a deep incision, and then drove it in again, when a white, wedge-shaped chip flew out, for the boy had been early in life taught the use of the axe.
Then cutting rapidly and well, he sent the chips flying, while every stroke sent a quiver along the great branch.
Still Sam clung to the spot where he had been from the first, and made no effort to move; and at last, when he was half-way through the branch, Bart stopped short in despair, for the pretence of cutting it off had not the slightest effect upon Sam.
“Tired, Master Bart?” cried Joses just then; and snatching away the axe, he began to apply it with tremendous effect, the chips flying over the precipice, and a great yawning opening appearing in the upper part of the branch.
“Don’t cut any farther, Joses,” whispered Bart; “it will give way.”