THE DOCTOR DISCOVERS A TREE WITH ST. VITUS’ DANCE
The next morning the discovery of a new tree in the farmer’s yard caused
great surprise. At first the people were awed and afraid, and some were a
little suspicious. Indeed, Snythergen had to stand very stiff and still
and put on his very best tree manners to make them believe he was a real
tree. He was watched so closely that he scarcely dared to breathe, and he
feared the cool breeze from the lake might make him cough, for already he
had a slight cold from wading in the chilly water the day before. Once
or twice he nearly exploded trying to hold in a sneeze. But the people
on the ground saw only his top branches tossing and thought it due to an
upper current of air.
Then an adventurous boy began climbing his trunk, and Snythergen thought
surely the little fellow would feel his heart beat. But the child only
climbed higher and higher, venturing out on a high limb which Snythergen
held insecurely with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. It had
been difficult to support the branch alone and keep it from swaying,
but with the heavy boy on it Snythergen found it almost impossible. The
perspiration stood out on every bough. His left arm became so tired it
pained him dreadfully, and it took all his strength to keep from dropping
it to his side. He knew that he could not hold it out much longer, and
yet if he let the branch drop the boy would be dashed to the ground and
perhaps cruelly hurt. In spite of all he could do he was horrified to see
the limb settling slowly downward and he closed his eyes to shut out the
catastrophe that seemed sure to follow. Suddenly there was a cry from
below.
“Get right down out of that tree,” called the mother of the boy.
Snythergen braced himself to hold on a moment longer, and just as the boy
reached his trunk, the branch fell to his side. Snythergen breathed a
prayer of thanksgiving. The child soon was safe on the ground.
Snythergen thought the people in the farmer’s yard curious and watchful,
but he was mistaken. He was soon to learn what real curiosity and
watchfulness are like. Some one had sent for a famous tree doctor, and he
came promptly to look Snythergen over. When he appeared Snythergen put
on his most correct forest behavior and really was a model tree, for the
doctor’s benefit.
“I can’t see anything unusual about that tree,” said the physician,
unpacking his instrument case. Snythergen was holding out his branches
gracefully and letting his leaves flutter naturally in the breeze. The
doctor spread his shining wood-carving tools out on a cloth on the
ground. Much as the little man knew about trees, he had never learned to
climb one, and the farmer had to fetch him a long ladder before he could
make his examination.
When the little man had mounted well up toward the top of Snythergen he
placed a fever thermometer in a knothole, which happened to lead into
Snythergen’s mouth. Leaving it there he descended to the ground, and
wrapped a rubber bandage about his trunk, winding it so tightly that
Snythergen barely avoided a cry of pain. One look at the indicator gave
the tree doctor a shock.
“Sap pressure 110!” he cried. “There must be some mistake!”
Again and again he tried it and each time it registered 110.
“Surely there is something very strange here!” said the doctor. “Never
have I heard of a tree with a sap pressure over 30. Why, it’s as high as
the blood pressure of a boy!”
But the tree doctor was to receive another shock when he tapped
Snythergen’s bark and listened with a tree stethoscope.
“Why, I didn’t think there was a tree in the world with such a violent
throb. It’s as fast and strong as the heart beat of a child!”
But the greatest shock of all was to come when he climbed up to read the
fever thermometer. He could hardly believe his own eyes when he saw what
it registered.
“I never heard of a tree having such a temperature!” he cried. “It is as
high as a boy’s.” Indeed the temperature was so much like a boy’s, the
little doctor so far forgot himself as to shout:
“Stick out your tongue!”
[Illustration: “Stick out your tongue!”]
This command took Snythergen by surprise, and without thinking, he stuck
his tongue out through the knothole, and when the little man saw it, he
was so frightened he nearly fell from the ladder. Snythergen drew back
his tongue in a hurry. The doctor puzzled and puzzled over the matter.
Finally he concluded that he must have seen a squirrel’s red head.
There were so many strange things about the tree that the physician made
up his mind in the interest of science to watch it day and night. He
camped in a tent beside Snythergen, and only when he retired for a cat
nap did he take his owl-like eyes from the tree. Even then Snythergen
could not attempt to escape, or even stretch his limbs and relax, for the
little man was a light sleeper and would rush out at the faintest unusual
rustle of a twig.
Snythergen realized more than ever that the life of a tree is not all
joy. His roots were sore and calloused from standing in one position. A
leg or an arm would go to sleep because he dared not move it. He was numb
all over, besides being cold, tired and hungry. He gazed longingly into
the dining room. His mouth watered and he swallowed hard at the sight of
the rich home cooking. How eagerly would he have eaten the crusts the
farmer’s little boy tried to hide under the edge of his plate! How he
would have enjoyed taking the heaping plate of his tormentor, the little
doctor, when the latter’s back was turned! But usually the window was
closed, or some one was looking.
All the next morning Snythergen watched impatiently for Squeaky to
appear on the opposite shore of the lake. He wondered why Sancho Wing
did not come, but he could not know that Sancho was spending all of his
time keeping track of the bear, who was in a revengeful mood and very
restless. The ice had given him mental chilblains and the pain served as
a reminder, making him more determined than ever to find and punish his
persecutors.
About eleven o’clock Snythergen thought he saw a little movement in the
bushes along the opposite shore of the lake. Then he recognized Squeaky’s
peculiar wobbling walk. So delighted was he that he forgot the little
doctor, and waved his branches excitedly. Squeaky answered. Snythergen
signaled back that he was hungry and wanted some bread and butter with
sugar on it—not an easy message for a tree to wave to a pig all the way
across a lake. It took ingenuity to figure it out, and this is how he did
it.
First Snythergen held out two limbs and pretended he was carrying a slice
of bread in each hand. Next he rubbed an upper branch over these in such
a way that Squeaky would know he wanted them spread with butter—and not
to save on the butter. Then he bent his top boughs down, shaking them
vigorously to make the pig understand that he wanted all the powdered
sugar the bread would hold.
The little tree doctor was watching this performance with the utmost
amazement.
“Why, I believe that tree has the St. Vitus’ Dance!” said the physician.
“I never heard of a tree having it before. The discovery will make me
famous. But I must prove it beyond a doubt or the scientists will never
give me credit for it. In order to be sure I must give it the brass band
test for that is the only reliable one. If our leafy friend here dances
when the band plays I will know then that he has the St. Vitus’ Dance. If
he does not, I may have to ‘tree-pan’ him to find out.”
Snythergen shuddered at the horrible thought of being trepanned—or
in other words of having his skull operated on so his brain could be
examined. As he talked to himself the little man danced excitedly about.
“The fit seems to be over,” he said breathlessly, when Snythergen had
waved his last signal to Squeaky.
“Dinner is ready,” called the farmer’s wife from the house.
“I will be right in,” answered the doctor, for he had decided to wait
until he had eaten before going for the musicians.
The chance of running away to meet Squeaky and bread and butter had
become more and more doubtful now the little doctor had seen him waving,
and Snythergen was so hungry! He looked in through the dining-room window
to see what the family was having to eat. It was a very hot day and the
window was wide open. The farmer was placing a steaming plate of meat
and potatoes before the doctor, who sat facing the window where he could
watch the tree while he ate. The rich odor of food arose to Snythergen’s
nostrils and it was more than he could resist.
“I must have something soon, or I’ll fall over,” he said to himself. “I
wonder how I can manage it?” For a moment he thought, then an idea came
to him. Leaning over, with his top branches he beat violently upon the
roof of the house.
“What’s happening upstairs!” cried the farmer’s wife in alarm.
“It sounds as if the roof was falling in!” said the farmer leaping from
his chair, and they rushed out of the room. In his excitement the doctor
followed part way upstairs. The instant he was gone Snythergen reached
a forked limb into the dining room and helped himself to the doctor’s
dinner.
“He will never miss it,” he thought. “He’s too excited to eat, anyway.”
When the physician returned and found his dinner had disappeared, he was
dumbfounded.
“What has become of it?” he cried, jumping up and looking under the
table. He searched behind the chairs, in the closets, and even in the
hall. In each new place he cried out over and over again, “Who took my
dinner? Who took my dinner?”
While he was thus occupied Snythergen had an opportunity to eat, but
he was in such haste to be done before his tormentor looked out of the
window again, that he entirely forgot his table manners and crammed and
stuffed his mouth with his twigs. The farmer and his wife had found
nothing out of the way upstairs to explain the noise on the roof, and
when they returned the little man was still fussing about, looking in the
china closet, the napkin and silver drawers, and other absurd places.
“What’s up now?” demanded the farmer, who was getting a bit tired of
the tree doctor’s queer ways. The farmer’s wife too was looking on
suspiciously. She did not fancy having a stranger poking into her drawers
and closets.
The physician tried to explain but they only laughed at him.
“The very idea!” cried the farmer’s wife. “Nobody could come into the
room and take your dinner away without your knowing it!”
“Besides, who would want something to eat that bad around here,” said the
farmer. “Everybody knows we feed every tramp that comes along!”
The little doctor felt uncomfortable and embarrassed because they laughed
at him, and he barely touched the second plate of food the farmer served
him. Snythergen was right, he was too excited to eat. Scarcely could he
wait until the dinner was over for the farmer to drive him to town to get
the band.
[Illustration: Thereafter he would strike a tree-like pose not so
difficult to hold]
The doctor’s departure was Snythergen’s cue to escape. Cautiously he
stole away from the house and waited for an opportunity to cross the
lake. The man next door was plowing, and Snythergen had to be very
careful. While the man’s back was turned he ran as fast as possible,
but when he plowed toward him, Snythergen had to stand motionless
and trust that his altered position would not be seen; and whatever
position Snythergen’s limbs were in when the farmer turned toward him,
had to be held while the plow traveled the whole length of the field.
Once when the man approached, Snythergen was in the lake with one root
raised ready to step, and he dared not lower his root or make any other
movement until the farmer had walked the whole distance and had turned
his back again. Thus he stood balancing himself for fifteen minutes, and
to make matters worse he had been caught with his branches pointing to
the sky. The painful experience of holding this position taught him a
lesson, and thereafter when the plow neared the end of the row, he would
strike a tree-like pose not so difficult to hold. Luckily the farmer
was near-sighted, and failed to remark the strange apparition of a tree
wading across the lake up to its branch pits in water.
In spite of various discomforts Snythergen made the crossing successfully
and had no difficulty in following the trail home. On reaching the house
he found Sancho Wing and Squeaky feverishly preparing the bread and
butter and sugar to take to him. They were overjoyed to see him, but
Snythergen was too tired to sit up and visit. He had been standing on
his roots so long he was only too glad to lie down and sleep. But before
he would close his eyes, they had to assure him that the woodchoppers had
left the forest.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]