"Don't believe him, Arthur," struck in the incorrigible East; "I just saw an old magpie go out of it."
Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, except by a grunt, as he buckled the last buckle of his climbing-irons; and Arthur looked reproachfully at East without speaking.
But now came the tug of war. It was a very difficult tree to climb until the branches were reached, the first of which was some fourteen feet up, for the trunk was too large at the bottom to be swarmed; in fact, neither of the boys could reach more than half round it with their arms. Martin and Tom, both of whom had irons on, tried it without success at first; the fir bark broke away where they stuck the irons in as soon as they leant any weight on their feet, and the grip of their arms wasn't enough to keep them up; so, after getting up three or four feet, down they came slithering to the ground, barking their arms and faces. They were furious, and East sat by laughing and shouting at each failure, "Two to one on the old magpie!"
"We must try a pyramid," said Tom at last. "Now, Scud, you lazy rascal, stick yourself against the tree!"
"I dare say! and have you standing on my shoulders with the irons on: what do you think my skin's made of?" However, up he got, and leant against the tree, putting his head down and clasping it with his arms as far as he could. "Now then, Madman," said Tom, " you next."
"No, I'm lighter than you; you go next." So Tom got on East's shoulders, and grasped the tree above, and then Martin scrambled up on to Tom's shoulders, amidst the totterings and groanings of
