“Go out of the hole you mean to say,” said Joe, creeping out.
“You may call it jest what you like,” said Sneak; “but I’ll be switched if many folks lives in higher houses than I does.”
“Well, I’ll declare!” cried Joe.
“What ails you now?” asked Sneak, thrusting his head out of the aperture, and regarding the surprise of Joe with much satisfaction.
“Why, I see the smoke pouring out of a hole in a limb not much bigger than my thigh!” cried Joe. This was true. Sneak had mounted up in the tree before building his chimney, and finding a hollow bough that communicated directly with the main trunk had cut through into the cavity, and thus made a vent for the escape of the smoke.
“Come in now, and get something to eat,” said Sneak. This was an invitation that Joe was never known to decline. After casting another admiring glance at the blue vapour that issued from the bough some ninety feet from the ground, he passed through the cavity with alacrity.
“Where are you?” cried Joe, upon entering and looking round in vain for his host, who had vanished in a most inexplicable manner. Joe stared in astonishment. The lighted lamp remained on a box, that was designed for the breakfast-table, and on which there was in truth an abundance of dried venison and smoking potatoes. But where was Sneak?
“Sneak, what’s become of you?” continued Joe, eagerly listening for a reply, and anxiously scanning the tempting repast set before him. “I know you’re at some of your tricks,” he added, and sitting down at the table, commenced in no indifferent manner to discuss the savoury venison and potatoes.
“I’m only up stairs,” cried Sneak, in the darkness above; and throwing down a rope made of hides, the upper end of which was fastened to the tree within, he soon followed, slipping briskly down, and without delay sprang to Joe’s assistance.
When the meal was finished, or rather, when every thing set before them had vanished, Sneak rose up and thrust his long neck out of the aperture.