“I’ll show ye.”
Lion was standing near the log, on the other side of which Hank placed himself.
“Now pretend you’re goin’ to grab the basket!”
CHAPTER XII
HOW HOD’S TROUSERS WENT TO THE SQUIRE’S HOUSE.
Hank leaned over the log,—his lank frame and astonishing length of limb favoring the execution of his stratagem,—and seized Lion by one of his hind legs while his attention was diverted by a feigned attack upon the treasure. Finding himself caught, the dog wheeled furiously; but on the instant Hank, swinging his hind-quarters upon the log, drew them between two prongs of an upright limb, forked near the trunk, where it was easy to hold him, with his head hanging.
“Now who’s got a good stout string?”
“Here’s a whiplash in Hod’s breeches pocket!”
Tug leaped the log with it, and assisted in lashing Lion’s hind legs to the limb, below the fork in which he was suspended by his thighs. The poor fellow’s struggling and yelping were of no avail: there he was, hung.