His purpose was to cut the branch as near to the nest as he dared, both from the standpoint of the bird’s peace of mind and his own safety.  The further from the nest he cut, the thicker would be the branch, and the more cutting there would be to do.  To cut too near to the nest might frighten his little neighbor on the branch, and endanger his own life.

Yet if he cut the branch where it was thick, how could he handle it after it was detached?  How would he get down with it through all that network of lower branches?

In his quandary he hit on a plan involving new peril for himself and doubtless some agitation to his little neighbor.  He would not detach the nest from its branch, for how could he ever attach it to another branch in a way satisfactory to that finicky little householder?  He knew enough about his business to know that no bird would continue to live in a nest which had been tampered with to that extent.

So he advanced cautiously out on the branch again till he could reach the nest.  Then very gently he bound his handkerchief about the opening.  Having done this, he cut into the branch with his scout knife within about six or eight inches of the nest.  When he had cut the branch almost through it was a pretty ticklish matter, straddling the stubby end, for he had the tip of the branch with the nest still in his hand and was in danger of losing his balance.

Sitting there with his legs pressed up tight against the under side of the branch so as to hold his balance on his precarious seat, he held the end in one hand while he carefully pulled away the twigs from the end beyond the nest.  Thus he had a piece of branch perhaps twenty inches long, with the nest hanging midway of it.  This he held with the greatest care, lest in turning the branch the delicate fabric by which it hung should strain and break away.  You would have thought that that little prisoner of the speckled head owned the tree, which in point of fact was owned by Temple Camp, notwithstanding its distance from the scout community.  So it was really Hervey’s more than it was little downy-head’s if it comes to that.

It is not every landlord that goes to so much trouble for a tenant.

CHAPTER X

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE, ON WITH THE NEW

“All right, we’re coming down; kill the fatted calf,” Hervey called with all his former gay manner.  “No more up and down trails for me.  This is moving day.”

When he had descended a little nearer, Tom heard the cheery voice more clearly.  “It’s no easy job moving a house and family.  I have to watch my step.  Oh, boy, coming down! This tree is tied in a sailor’s knot.”

“Are you bringing the bird?” Tom called.

“I’m bringing the bird and the whole block he lived in,” Hervey called back merrily.  “I’m transplanting the neighborhood.  He’s going to move into a better locality—­very fashionable.  He’s coming up in the world—­I mean down. O-o-h, boy, watch your step; there was a narrow escape!  I stepped on a chunk of air.”