But the greatest shock of all was to come when he climbed up to read the fever thermometer. He could hardly believe his own eyes when he saw what it registered. “I never heard of a tree having such a temperature!” he cried. “It is as high as a boy’s.” Indeed the temperature was so much like a boy’s, the little doctor so far forgot himself as to shout: “Stick out your tongue!” [Illustration: “Stick out your tongue!”] This command took Snythergen by surprise, and without thinking, he stuck his tongue out through the knothole, and when the little man saw it, he was so frightened he nearly fell from the ladder. Snythergen drew back his tongue in a hurry. The doctor puzzled and puzzled over the matter. Finally he concluded that he must have seen a squirrel’s red head. There were so many strange things about the tree that the physician made up his mind in the interest of science to watch it day and night. He camped in a tent beside Snythergen, and only when he retired for a cat nap did he take his owl-like eyes from the tree. Even then Snythergen could not attempt to escape, or even stretch his limbs and relax, for the little man was a light sleeper and would rush out at the faintest unusual rustle of a twig. Snythergen realized more than ever that the life of a tree is not all joy. His roots were sore and calloused from standing in one position. A leg or an arm would go to sleep because he dared not move it. He was numb all over, besides being cold, tired and hungry. He gazed longingly into the dining room. His mouth watered and he swallowed hard at the sight of the rich home cooking. How eagerly would he have eaten the crusts the farmer’s little boy tried to hide under the edge of his plate! How he would have enjoyed taking the heaping plate of his tormentor, the little doctor, when the latter’s back was turned! But usually the window was closed, or some one was looking. All the next morning Snythergen watched impatiently for Squeaky to appear on the opposite shore of the lake. He wondered why Sancho Wing did not come, but he could not know that Sancho was spending all of his time keeping track of the bear, who was in a revengeful mood and very restless. The ice had given him mental chilblains and the pain served as a reminder, making him more determined than ever to find and punish his persecutors. About eleven o’clock Snythergen thought he saw a little movement in the bushes along the opposite shore of the lake. Then he recognized Squeaky’s peculiar wobbling walk. So delighted was he that he forgot the little doctor, and waved his branches excitedly. Squeaky answered. Snythergen signaled back that he was hungry and wanted some bread and butter with sugar on it—not an easy message for a tree to wave to a pig all the way across a lake. It took ingenuity to figure it out, and this is how he did it.