Song of the Trees Read Free Page B

shouted. “Run!”
    “Why, you little . . .” Mr. Andersen cried, grabbing at Little Man. But Little Man was too quick for him. He slid right through Mr. Andersen’s legs. Tom stood nearby, his face crinkling into an amused grin.
    “Hey, y’all!” Mr. Andersen yelled to the lumbermen. “Claude! Get that kid!”
    But sure-footed Little Man dodged the groping hands of the lumbermen as easily as if he were skirting mud puddles. Over tree stumps, around legs and through legs he dashed. But in the end, there were too many lumbermen for him, and he was handed over to Mr. Andersen.
    For the second time, Christopher-John and I went to Little Man’s rescue.
    “Put him down!” we ordered, charging the lumbermen.
    I was captured much too quickly, though not before I had landed several stinging blows. But Christopher-John, furious at seeing Little Man handled so roughly by Mr. Andersen, managed to elude the clutches of the lumbermen until he was fully upon Mr. Andersen. Then, with his mightiest thrust, he kicked Mr. Andersen solidly in the shins, not once, but twice, before the lumbermen pulled him away.
    Mr. Andersen was fuming. He slowly took off his wide leather belt. Christopher-John, Little Man and I looked woefully at the belt, then at each other. Little Man and Christopher-John fought to escape, but I closed my eyes and awaited the whining of the heavy belt and its painful bite against my skin.
    What was he waiting for? I started to open my eyes, but then the zinging whirl of the belt began and I tensed, awaiting its fearful sting. But just as the leather tip lashed into my leg, a deep familiar voice said, “Put the belt down, Andersen.”
    I opened my eyes.
    “Papa!”
    “Let the children go,” Papa said. He was standing on a nearby ridge with a strange black box in his hands. Stacey was behind him holding the reins to Lady.
    The chopping stopped as all eyes turned to Papa.
    “They been right meddlesome,” Mr. Andersen said. “They need teaching how to act.”
    “Any teaching, I’ll do it. Now, let them go.”
    Mr. Andersen looked down at Little Man struggling to get away. Smiling broadly, he motioned our release. “Okay, David,” he said.
    As we ran up the ridge to Papa, Mr. Andersen said, “It’s good to have you home, boy.”
    Papa said nothing until we were safely behind him. “Take them home, Stacey.”
    “But, Papa ——”
    “Do like I say, son.”
    Stacey herded us away from the men. When we were far enough away so Papa couldn’t see us, Stacey stopped and handed me Lady’s reins.
    “Y’all go on home now,” he said. “I gotta go help Papa.”
    “Papa don’t need no help,” I said. “He told you to come with us.”
    “But you don’t know what he’s gonna do.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “He’s gonna blow up the forest if they don’t get out of here. So go on home where y’all be safe.”
    “How’s he gonna do that?” asked Little Man.
    “We been setting sticks of dynamite since the middle of the night. We ain’t even been up to the house cause Papa wanted the sticks planted and covered over before the men came. Now, Cassie, take them on back to the house.Do like I tell you for once, will ya?” Then, without waiting for another word, he was gone.
    “I wanna see,” Little Man announced.
    “I don’t,” protested Christopher-John.
    “Come on,” I said.
    We tied the mare to a tree, then belly-crawled back to where we could see Papa and joined Stacey in the brush.
    “Cassie, I told you . . .”
    “What’s Papa doing?”
    The black box was now set upon a sawed-off tree stump, and Papa’s hands were tightly grasping a T-shaped instrument which went into it.
    “What’s that thing?” asked Little Man.
    “It’s a plunger,” Stacey whispered. “If Papa presses down on it, the whole forest will go pfffff!”
    Our mouths went dry and our eyes went wide. Mr. Andersen’s eyes were wide, too.
    “You’re bluffing, David,” he said. “You ain’t gonna push that