Bonaparte caught his cue at once and ran to the foot of the tree barking viciously, daring the tree-climber to come down. His vicious eyes danced gleefully. He looked at his master between his snarls as much as to say: “Well, this is great, to tree the real live son of the all-conquering man!”
It maddened him, too, to see the supreme indifference with which the all-conqueror's son treated his presence.
Jud grunted. He prided himself on his bird-lore. Finally he said: “Wal, any fool could tell you—it's a wood-pecker's nest.”
“Yes, that's so and jus' exacly what a fool 'ud say,” came back from the tree. “But it 'ud be because he is a fool, tho', an' don't see things as they be. It's a fly-ketcher's nest, for all that—” he added.
“Teach yo' gran'-mammy how to milk the house cat,” sneered Jud, while Bonaparte grew furious again with this added insult. “Don't you know a wood-pecker's nest when you see it?”
“Yes,” said Archie B., “an' I also know a fly-ketcher will whip a wood-pecker and take his nes' from him, an' I've come up here to see if it's so with this one.”
“Oh,” said Jud, surprised, “an' what is it?”
“Jus' as I said—he's whipped the wood-pecker an' tuck his nes'.”
“What's a fly-ketcher, Mister Know-It-All?” said Jud. Then he grinned derisively.
Bonaparte, watching his master, ran around the tree again and squatting on his stump of a tail grinned likewise.