"What do you want that for?" I asked him, all excited.
"Look and see—do as I tell you," he just said.
It was in the smashed canoe and I just stood there holding it.
"What'll I do with it?" I asked him.
"Just hold it," he said. Then he said, "Now, Blakeley, there's only one way to get down there and that's to jump. It's pretty deep, but the main question is, 'is it wide enough?' If it is—well, I'm a tiger and I ought to manage it."
I didn't know then, but I found out afterward that when a tiger makes a leap out of a tree he rolls over when he hits ground and turns a sort of summersault, so as to break the shock. There's a certain way to do it, that's all I know. But I knew when he said it, that the Royal Bengal Tigers from Ohio were like the others away out in India, in more ways than I ever thought about.
I said, "Bert, you can't do it—tigers are—"
"Shut up," he said, "and listen—"
"Even if you did," I said—"No, I won't shut up—you listen. Even if you did, how could you get out? Have some sense. I've followed you all the time, but now you've got to listen. I like you better than any fellow—even Westy—and—please wait a minute—even Skinny. It's too late—Bert."
He said, "Blakeley, we have two chances—just two. You know the third law. I don't tell you what you've got to do, Blakeley. That's your business—but listen." He put his hand on my shoulder and his voice was all husky. He said, "Blakeley, if I don't make it, you'll have my body to ease the shock for you. People—people will be here to-morrow— you'll get out. It's getting in we have to think about. If I don't make it, try to land on your feet—a little forward—like this—see? And duck your head and do a summersault forward—see? If you don't want to, it's none of my business. Only I'm telling you how. Here," he said, and he threw a lot of things out of his pockets; "you give them to my patrol."