CHAPTER XXX.
THE TREE OF REFUGE.
The tramp was stout and clumsily made, and although he was strongly made he was not agile. Moreover, the branch by which Robert had helped himself upward was over six feet from the ground, and had only been reached by a leap. The trunk of the tree was large in circumference, and afforded no facilities for climbing. The efforts of the pursuer, therefore, were vain.
"Come down!" he shouted, peremptorily.
"I have already said that I am very comfortable here," answered Robert.
"Do you mean to defy me?"
"I don't wish to have anything to do with you."
"I wish I had a pistol!" muttered the tramp. "I'd soon have you down then."
Robert was devoutly thankful that he was not provided with such a weapon. He felt relieved by the discovery, for it had occurred to him as possible, and in that event he would have had to make a virtue of necessity and come down.
"Why didn't I lay hold of the boy when I had him beside me?" thought the disappointed tramp. "Who would have thought he could have sprung up like that?"