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“Keep that creature away, won’t you?” again entreated the agitated man, placing the trunk of the tree between himself and the animal. “I detest dogs!”

“Oh, Reginald!” sighed Bessie Wiggin in bitter disappointment!

“Oh, hang it!” exploded the stranger, with shocking violence. “If I had a gun——”

Shep charged, barking violently. He meant to stop out of reach of the man’s feet in case he showed a disposition to kick. But, making a great leap, the stranger clutched a stout lower limb of the tree, and swung himself up out of the reach of harm with the most amazing celerity, the dog snapping at his heels as they receded skyward.

Perched astride the limb, with his feet drawn up, the refugee shook his fist at the raging animal, which, inflamed by success, made another great jump into the air and fell back on the ground, his age-enfeebled legs collapsing beneath him.

Still kneeling, the girl burst into a peal of laughter.

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“Go to it!” said the exasperated man in the tree. “Get in your laugh while the laughing’s good. If your confounded dog had succeeded in chewing some chunks out of me, I suppose you’d simply have collapsed with merriment.”