what a
scaly thing it was to do anyway. He let himself rip in all directions,
even to the persecutions in what he called the White Country, which he
said Old Dibs had endured for religion's sake, and how he had been
thrown to the lions in the Colossium.

Old Dibs sat there as smug as smug, little knowing how the agony was
being piled on his bald head; and just when Iosefo was making him cow
the lions with a glance, Old Dibs took the specs off his nose and wiped
them, while everybody was worked up tremendous to know whether he had
been eat or not. Iosefo was no slouch when he once got his hand in, and
carried it over to the next number like a story in a magazine, the
Kanakas all going out buzzing, wishing it was Sunday week, and eyeing
Old Dibs with veneration.

The platform was number two on the list, and me and Tom, with the
measurements we had taken in the tree, made a very neat job of it, and
painted it green topside and bottom. We laid it together in Tom's shed,
and got in Old Dibs to see if it would fit him, which it did beautiful,
being six foot six by two and a half. Tom explained we'd put a natty
railing around it, likewise painted green, and carry a width of fine
netting below, so that pillows or things shouldn't slip overboard. Tom
was hurt at Old Dibs not being more enthusiastic, and finally said:
"Hell! Mr. Smith, what are you sticking at?"

"It'll never sustain the coin," said Old Dibs, jouncing up and down on
it like a dancing hippopotamus.

"You weren't meaning to take that up, too?" cries Tom.

"I thought that was part of the scheme?" said Old Dibs. "Why, you said a
whole cow yourself. Didn't he, Bill?"

This was a facer for Tom, but all he asked was how much money there
was.

"It weighs hundreds of pounds," said Old Dibs, very sly, and not wanting
to name figgers.

We neither of us could very well blame the old gentleman for not wanting
to trust us with a quarter of a million dollars while he was up a tree
like a canary bird; and so Tom or I didn't say what was in our minds,
which was to bury it somewheres. In fact, there was a longish silence,
till I suggested using some two-inch iron pipe I had at home, instead of
the light boat spars Tom had cut for the purpose.

"And as for the money," said I, "why not have a locker for it at each
end, with the weight resting against the forks, and maybe a little room
extra for Mr. Smith's toothbrush and toilet tackle?" I minded the size
of the suit cas