“Suppose it does,” said Fred. “There’s another hoop from that old cask up at the cave and he can easily make another.”
“Isn’t a barrel of gold worth more than an old iron knife anyway?” said John. “I should say so if you asked me.”
“A barrel of gold wouldn’t have done you much good when that shark was after you though,” said Grant grimly. “I guess just at that time Sam’s old iron knife was worth more to you than anything in the world.”
“That’s true,” acknowledged John soberly. “I have no right to talk against that knife.”
“Come over here and give this tree a push,” shouted George who was bustling importantly around Sam. “You fellows seem to think this is a party or something. Come over here and do some work.”
No great amount of urging was required, however, and a moment later every one in the party was standing about the tree, pushing and pulling with all his might.
“She’s beginning to give!” exclaimed George. “Keep it up!”
“Let Sam get to work for a minute or so more,” suggested Grant. “About a dozen more good blows will finish the job.”
“Dat’s right,” agreed Sam readily. “Lemme at dat ol’ tree agin.”
As though it was his mortal enemy Sam attacked the unsuspecting palm tree and dealt it such fierce blows that it soon required only a slight exercise of strength to topple it over.