“Shall I knock it down and see what happens?” Hervey said. It was awful funny to see him lying there on his back and making believe to try and reach it with his foot. All the while the wasps were flying in and out of it and kind of hanging around the doorway. By that time the girls were crazy, picking things up all excited and getting ready to move away. “Come away, don’t _touch_ it; oh, don’t _touch_ it whatever you do!” they were crying. Marjorie Eaton knocked the lunch basket over and spilled everything out of it, she was in such a hurry. They both started picking things up and kept kind of edging away from the tree all the time. I had to laugh to see how they’d sneak up on tiptoe and pick up something and then go scooting away with it and sneak back for something else. The stuff was all over the ground, and they crept around groping for it all the while looking very scared-like at the tree. Hervey didn’t pay any attention to them, just lay there on his back looking up at the big nest. He said, “I tell you what let’s do; let’s take it down and see how far we can roll it.” “A game of one o’ cat would be better,” Brent said, very sober. “The first one to knock a home run will get six jelly rolls to begin with. Only we’ll have to bat at it left-handed.” “Oh, absolutely, most conclusively,” I said. “And when we run we’ll turn to the left,” Warde piped up. “That’s understood,” Hervey said. “I think it would be better to toss it gently,” Brent said. “I’ll lift it down and throw it to Miss Eaton, she’ll throw it to Warde, he’ll throw it to Miss Wingate, she’ll throw it to Pee-wee——” “Not gently,” I said. “By that time,” Brent said, “the wasps will be dizzy; they’ll be so seasick that they’ll tumble right out through the hole, and we can hold a plate of jam to catch them in. They’ll stick in the jam while they’re in a state of como, or coma, or whatever you call it, and we’ll capture them all by one master-stroke.” Warde said, “You got that idea from the best way to kill flies by hanging a slippery cord above a plate of ice cream. The fly alights on the cord, slides off into the ice cream and freezes to death.” Brent said, “I’ve heard of that but it’s cruel and scouts don’t use it. In the seasick method the wasp is rendered unconscious first and he never knows he’s dead till afterwards. He dies in the jam, an ideal death. Even Pee-wee will admit that.” Warde said, “I should think the wasps would be stuck on that—or in it.” “That’s just it, they are,” Brent said. “Now, all form a circle while I lift it down.” He made believe to reach for it and, oh, boy, I wish you could have seen those girls run. When they got about fifty feet away they stood hugging each other and screaming. “By doing that you’ll only wake the wasps up,” Warde said to them. “This is just the time they take their afternoon nap.” CHAPTER XIII “THE SHIVELLER”