Eager to get at Squeaky, he pawed Snythergen’s tender bark and pushed against him roughly. All this time Sancho Wing’s little brain had been puzzling to find some way to save his pals. Flying a little distance and hiding among the leaves he hallooed at the top of his piping voice, hoping the woodchoppers might be in the forest, and hear him. Anxiously the bear glanced around. The hallooing reminded him of the sound the hunters made, and thinking best not to take any chances he strolled away cautiously. The three friends breathed a sigh of relief and Squeaky began to dance for joy. “We haven’t escaped yet,” Sancho Wing reminded him. “The bear will return when he discovers the hunters are not after him. We must finish the airplane immediately.” At once they resumed work and kept at it until the plane was completed. And now it needed only to be tested. It was new and stiff and repeatedly the engine refused to start, though Snythergen cranked it again and again. It was nearing the bear’s lunch time and Sancho Wing flew away to the cave to see what the big brute was up to. Soon he came back out of breath, panting so hard he could scarcely speak, for he had raced all the way. “Quick, quick!” he gasped. Snythergen and Squeaky understood and Snythergen cranked so furiously he was wet through with perspiration. “Let me try it,” urged Squeaky impatiently when Snythergen had to rest a moment to get breath, and the pig grasped the crank and pulled with all his strength. But he had turned it only half way round when it flew back, and sent him sprawling. Sancho, who had flown back to keep track of the bear, now darted up to report him only a few hundred yards away. “Crank as if your life depended on it!” he cried. Frantically the little bird flew back and forth to tell them each time how much nearer the bear had come. Snythergen was cranking mightily while Squeaky piled in what scanty luggage could be collected in a jiffy. “He’s almost here!” groaned Sancho Wing. Snythergen heard the crackling of sticks under the brute’s feet. “It’s now or never,” thought he, putting all his strength into one last pull. The engine gave a sickly “pop.” Snythergen’s heart sank. But there was another little “pop.” Others followed slowly, then more rapidly. Now the explosions were in quick succession. The engine was running! The three scrambled aboard. The airplane coasted down hill and rose gently from the ground. They were saved. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XI THE JOURNEY TO THE WREATH—A SPIN IN A HUMMING-TOP—AN UNKNOWN FRIEND