have heard him howl I bet he was mad clean
through.

But safety first-oh boy! I dropped another one and it landed right on his
nose; lucky shot. By now he was acting just like a cat having a fit and
bowling like mad. I guess he couldn't see at all, because he went,
kerplunk, up against a tree and then rolled away and went banging against
the spring house. He had two sheets on his face and another one on his paw
and the whole front of him was all mucked up with gum and the grass and
dirt were sticking to him. Believe me, he was a sight. He didn't look much
like a lord of the jungle; he looked more as if he was on his way home
from the hospital.

You can talk about tanks and machine guns and poison gas and hand grenades,
and all the other new fangled weapons, but tangle foot for mine; that's
what _I_ say. If the Allies had used tanglefoot, the war would have been
over three years ago. And if they had spread it all along the banks of the
Marne, the Germans would never have gotten across, that's one sure thing.

CHAPTER X

I MAKE A PROMISE

Honestly, inside of five minutes that wild animal was a wreck. Every time
he tried to claw the paper from his head he howled, because it pulled his
hair and hurt him. I don't say I was glad to sit up there and watch him,
because there isn't much fun in seeing animals suffer. Maybe he wasn't
suffering, but anyway, he was half crazy. But how about me? Safety first.

Pretty soon he kind of half rolled and half staggered over against the
trunk of my tree and I knew he couldn't see at all. Then he lay there with
his back up against it trying to rub the sheet off his back, and all the
while he kept pawing his head and making it worse for himself. I guess
even if he had gotten the paper off, he'd still be blind, because the gum
would keep his eyes shut. By that time I knew I was safe, because he was
even more helpless than he would have been if I had shot him and not killed
him. It was mostly because he couldn't see, and that got him rattled, and
you're no good when you're rattled. All I wanted was for him to get away
from the tree so I wouldn't have to be too near him, and then I'd shinny
down and hit the trail for camp.

But just then I had another thought. Maybe you won't believe me, but I felt
sorry for that wild animal. I knew how _I'd_ feel if I was in such a fix as
that. If I had only had a pistol I would have shot him, but boy scouts
don't carry pistols-only in crazy story bo