n us with one long cruel bound!"

From the way the terrible creature, as the Hen called him, was a-going
on--sort of hopping up and down, and not making much headway--it
didn't look as if long cruel bounds was what he was most used to. But
Boston wasn't studying the matter extra careful, and as the Hen found
he took pretty much what she give him she just cracked along.

"To run, I tell you," says the Hen, "is but to court the quicker
coming of the torturing death to which we are doomed. It will come
quick enough, anyway!"--and she handed out a fresh lot of shivers, and
throwed in sobs. Then she give a jump, as if the notion'd just struck
her, and says: "There is a chance for us! Up on the roof of this house
we may be safe. Lions can spring enormous distances horizontally, you
know; but, save in exceptional cases, their vertical jumping powers
are restricted to a marked degree. Quick! Put your foot in my hand and
let me start you. When you are up, you can pull me up after you. Now
then!"--and the Hen reached her hand down so she could get a-hold of
Boston's foot and give him a send.

Her using them long words about the way lions did their jumping--being
the kind of talk he was used to--seemed to sort of brace him.
Anyways--the lion helping hurry things by just then giving another
jump or two--he managed to have sense enough to put his foot in the
Hen's hand, same as she told him; and then she let out her muscle and
give him such an up-start he was landed on the roof of the 'dobe afore
he fairly knowed he'd begun to go! Being landed, he just sprawled out
flat--and getting the Hen up after him seemed to be about the last
thing he had on his mind.

"Help! Help!" sung out the Hen. "The lion is almost on me! Give me
your hand!" But Boston wasn't in no shape to give hands to nobody. All
he did was to kick his legs about and let off groans.

"Oh, I understand, now," says the Hen in a minute. "You are crying out
in the hope of luring the creature into trying to reach you--as he
can, if he happens to be one of the exceptional jumpers--and so give
me a chance to get away. How noble that is of you! I shall take the
chance, my brave preserver, that your self-sacrifice gives me--and I
shall collect, and bedew with tears of gratitude, all that the savage
monster leaves me of your bones! Heaven bless you--and good-bye!" And
away the Hen cut--leaving Boston high and dry on the roof of the
'dobe, so scared he just lay there like a w