The scout who was roosting in the tree a quarter of a mile below, became so enthused at the sight of the lanky vision striding down the mountainside that he became convulsed with laughter. Just then Jeems, who was half way down the sand slide, accompanied by the wild yells of the boys who were watching him, struck, in one of his flying steps, a partially submerged rock.
The effect was instantaneous and surprising, such was his momentum that he bounced high into the air and sprawled out like a gigantic flying squirrel for thirty feet or more before he came to earth, or rather dove to sand, and was lost in a cloud of dust. The boys rushed to pick up the remains.
“look out, here comes jeems on the warpath.”—P. [165].
CHAPTER XIX
THE CAMP IN THE VALLEY
The dust settled and they were able to see Jeems in all his outlines. He seemed unhurt and in the possession of all his faculties, for he began to spout poetry to the boys after this wise:
“From morn till noon he fell, from noon
Till dewy eve then like a falling star
Dropt from the zenith.”