"No, don't!" cried Buddy, quickly. "Better wait until I walk across a few times, first, so as to sort of practise. Then I'll do the trick before folks."
So he got up on the rope, standing up on his hind legs, and balancing the pole with his front paws and he steadied himself for a moment and then took a step. My! but that rope wiggled, though, from side to side, almost like a hammock, only, of course, not as safe as a hammock. But Buddy kept bravely on, and took another step—and land sakes laddy-da! if that rope didn't wiggle more than ever.
"Oh, take care! You'll fall!" cried Brighteyes, and she screamed.
"Oh, Brighteyes, don't do that, please!" begged Buddy. "You make me nervous, and then I can't walk the tight rope."
So Brighteyes, whose real name was Matilda, you know, kept real still and quiet, just like a little mouse when it wants a bit of cheese, and Buddy took another step out on the tight rope.
He held his balancing pole by the middle, and he went slowly and cautiously, and he was actually walking that slender rope!
But he kept looking down and wondering whether he would fall or not, and he got to thinking about the feather pillows, and wondering if they were thick enough and soft enough, so that he wouldn't get hurt if he should fall, when all at once, quicker than you can wheel the baby carriage down hill, when he was right in the middle, Buddy's foot slipped, and down he went, right a straddle across the tight rope, and the pole fell with a bang!
And Brighteyes screamed, for she couldn't help it, but Buddy didn't dare call out. No, all he could do was to cling there with his teeth and his paws to that swaying rope.