“Whether man or monkey,” said Pauline, in her quiet but decided way, “if you promised to attempt the thing, you are bound to try.”
“Well, then, I will try, and here, I drink success to the trial.” Otto applied the cocoa-nut to his lips, and took a long pull. “Come along, now, the sooner I prove the impossibility the better.”
Rising at once, with an injured expression, the boy led the way towards a little eminence close at hand, on the top of which grew a few trees of various kinds, the tallest of these being the signal-tree, to which Dominick had fixed one of the half-burnt pieces of sheeting, brought from the wreck. The stem was perfectly straight and seemingly smooth, and as they stood at its foot gazing up to the fluttering little piece of rag that still adhered to it, the impossibility of the ascent became indeed very obvious.
“Now, sir, are you convinced?” said Otto.
“No, sir, I am not convinced,” returned Dominick.
“You said you would try.”
Without another word Otto grasped the stem of the tree with arms and legs, and did his best to ascend it. He had, in truth, so much of the monkey in him, and was so wiry and tough, that he succeeded in getting up full twelve or fourteen feet before being utterly exhausted. At that point, however, he stuck, but instead of slipping down as he had intended, and again requesting to know whether his brother was convinced, he uttered a sharp cry, and shouted—
“Oh! I say, Dom, what am I to do?”
“Why, slip down, of course.”
“But I can’t. The bark seems to be made of needle-joints, all sticking upwards. If I try to slip, my trousers vill remain behind, and—and—I can’t hold on much longer!”