With remarkable quickness of thought Snythergen brought his lower limbs together to form a basket in which to catch the falling pig. Plunging through the branches Squeaky landed upon Snythergen’s leafy chest, safe for the time being, but stunned and out of breath.
“It is the Grasshopper Pig,” cried the bear, seeing him, “and I’ve got him up a tree!”
Eager to get at Squeaky, he pawed Snythergen’s tender bark and pushed against him roughly.
All this time Sancho Wing’s little brain had been puzzling to find some way to save his pals. Flying a little distance and hiding among the leaves he hallooed at the top of his piping voice, hoping the woodchoppers might be in the forest, and hear him. Anxiously the bear glanced around. The hallooing reminded him of the sound the hunters made, and thinking best not to take any chances he strolled away cautiously.
The three friends breathed a sigh of relief and Squeaky began to dance for joy.
“We haven’t escaped yet,” Sancho Wing reminded him. “The bear will return when he discovers the hunters are not after him. We must finish the airplane immediately.”
At once they resumed work and kept at it until the plane was completed. And now it needed only to be tested. It was new and stiff and repeatedly the engine refused to start, though Snythergen cranked it again and again. It was nearing the bear’s lunch time and Sancho Wing flew away to the cave to see what the big brute was up to. Soon he came back out of breath, panting so hard he could scarcely speak, for he had raced all the way.
“Quick, quick!” he gasped.
Snythergen and Squeaky understood and Snythergen cranked so furiously he was wet through with perspiration.
“Let me try it,” urged Squeaky impatiently when Snythergen had to rest a moment to get breath, and the pig grasped the crank and pulled with all his strength. But he had turned it only half way round when it flew back, and sent him sprawling. Sancho, who had flown back to keep track of the bear, now darted up to report him only a few hundred yards away.