He measured the tree with his eye. It was very tall, exceeding in its height most of its forest neighbors.
“I don't know as I can climb it,” he said to himself, a little doubtfully; “but anyway, I am going to try. There's nothing like trying.”
This was a lucky determination for Herbert, as will speedily appear.
It was twenty feet to the first branching off, and this was, of course, the most difficult part of the ascent, since it was necessary to “shin up,” and the body of the tree was rather too large to clasp comfortably. However, it was not the first time that Herbert had climbed a tree, and he was not deficient in courage as well as skill. So he pushed on his way, and though once or twice in danger of falling, he at length succeeded in reaching the first bough. From this point the ascent was comparatively easy.
In a short time our hero was elated to find himself probably fifty feet from the ground, so high it made him feel a little dizzy to look down. He reached the nest, and found the young birds—three in number. The parent bird hovered near by, evidently quite alarmed for the safety of her brood. But Herbert had no intention of harming them. He only climbed up to gratify his curiosity, and because he had nothing more important to do. Though he did not know it, his own danger was greater than that which threatened the birds. For, just at that moment, Mr. Holden, in his wanderings, had reached Ralph's cabin, and Herbert, looking down, beheld, with some anxiety, the figure of the unwelcome visitor. He saw Abner enter the cabin, and, after a few moments' interval, issue from it with an air of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
“How lucky,” thought our hero, “that he did not find me inside!”
Abner Holden looked about him in every direction but the right one. He little dreamed that the object of his pursuit was looking down upon him, securely, from above.
“I don't think he'll find me,” thought Herbert. “Wouldn't he give something, though, to know where I am?”
But our young hero was doomed to disappointment. Just at that moment—the unluckiest that could have been selected—he was seized with a strong inclination to sneeze.
Alarmed lest the sound should betray him, he made desperate efforts to suppress it but Nature would have its way, and probably did so with greater violence than if no resistance had been made.