this bark so as to tell a lie. No, the bark is the important thing.”
As he was thus weighing the situation he was suddenly seized with alarm. He had heard no sound, he had seen nothing, and yet his heart began beating like a trip-hammer. It was similar to the sensation of fear he had experienced a short while before, when wandering away from the camp.
“I guess, Mr. Bark, we’ll hide you here,” he whispered, peering stealthily over his shoulder.
As he searched about him for a hollow tree or log in which to place his treasure he laughed aloud gently.
“To think I would be silly enough to hide the bark and leave the tree exposed. Of course the bark must go back in place, also the chips I cut out. Now to find them.”
Owing to the care with which he had removed his exhibit he found it an easy task to replace the panel so as to defy all but the most careful scrutiny. Even the chips, where he cut the notches at top and bottom, were arranged in place by the means of several pegs. Then to more effectually cover up all traces of his work, he found some reindeer lichen and trailed it across the tree.
Then he stepped back a few feet and tested
