"Then listen to me," Chris told him earnestly, "and listen hard!" Amos sat up more alertly. "I have a handy thing here which is for you to use only--do you hear? _only_ if I don't come back." Amos's eyes began to get brighter and he swallowed. "Don't come _back_? Law! Chris, don't you leave me in this heathen country where nobody understands good English!" he cried. "Why, unless I'd steal, and Miss Becky told me _never_ to do that--but unless I did, how could I eat in these foreign parts?" Chris sat back on his haunches. "Well, I don't know how you could, myself. But don't you cross any bridges until you come to them. Look." He held out the folded balloon. "If I'm not back by two sunups from now--I may have to hide all during tomorrow--if I'm not back by then, put this package out beyond the trees in the clearing. That's very important. You've got that?" "I haven't got anything but a few old dried-up fruits," Amos pouted. "That's all." "_No_, Amos!" Chris gave him another rousing shake. "I mean, do you understand that much?" Amos brightened at once and broke into a broad grin. "Oh yes, of course. Why didn't you say so in the first place? You said, put the package out in the clear. Where's that, on this tippy-top of a hill?" Amos asked, looking about. "The ledge near where we climbed up. That's big enough," Chris reminded him. "Oh yes," Amos said, looking wise. "Well," Chris took up again, "you put the package on the ledge and strike the ground three times--" "Like this?" And before Chris could stop him, Amos had struck the earth beside him twice before Chris seized his hand in mid-air. "_Amos!_ Not now! I said _only_ if you have to get away. If someone comes after you, or if I don't come back. Promise me not to strike three _at all_ except for either of those two reasons." Amos raised his right hand looking very solemn. "I promise," he said. "Only," he added, looking bewildered and already somewhat forlorn, "what happens when I do hit three times?" "Why, it's a mag--it's a special kind of balloon," Chris began, after correcting what had almost been a bad slip. "A what?" Amos stuck his head forward, trying hard to understand. "A _balloon_. Oh." Chris stopped and stared at Amos. Perhaps balloons had not yet been invented. How very confusing! "It's something that will hold you up in the air. There's a basket for you to sit in--" "No _sir_!" Amos cried, wagging his head decisively from side to side. "Me in the air over the roofs and high up? No _indeedy_, Chris! Not me." Chris was becoming exasperated. He had important things to do. "Look, Amos. If you have to use it, you'll be in such a bad fix that being up in the air will seem like the very best thing that could happen. Stop running. I'll be back--I hope." He turned away toward the ledge and clearing. "And now, wish me luck, and stay here and wait for me. Don't follow me now, or watch, or I might fail."