There was not room enough for Snythergen to stand up in school, so the janitor cut a trap door beside his desk so that his feet extended into the basement. Even then he stood taller in the school room than the other pupils. But he would have managed very well had the janitor not been absent-minded and near-sighted. He seemed never able to remember that those long shanks were legs—not pillars. Again and again he would tie the clothes-line to them, and on wash days when Snythergen went out at recess, usually he trailed a piece of clothes-line behind each leg, with the washing hanging on. And the janitor got such a scolding from his wife for this that he grew to dislike Snythergen almost as much as Snythergen disliked him. One morning the janitor painted the basement. And when Snythergen went out at recess his legs were a brilliant yellow and pinned to each was a sign: “Fresh Paint.” That day he had an easy time playing tag, for no one wanted to get smeared with paint badly enough to touch him. One day the janitor was so forgetful as to start to drive a nail into one of Snythergen’s legs. This was too much! The poor boy jumped out of the cellar, and in rising thrust his head through the roof. So angry was he, he hardly knew what he was doing. He stepped over the walls carrying the roof with him, then tossed it on the ground and hurried away. “I won’t, won’t go back to school,” he kept saying to himself. Rather than go back and face the ridicule of his schoolmates he decided to run away. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER II A TICKLISH TREE For some time Snythergen had been thinking of running away and had planned to go to the forest and live with the trees, whose size was about like his own. While waiting for the time to arrive, he had made himself a disguise—and a very good one it was, too,—it was a suit of brown and green that made him look just like a tree. For a long time he had kept it hidden in some bushes. Yes, he had quite made up his mind to run away. He went home that night and looked into the upstairs windows for a last sight of his dear mother and father. His father was already asleep when he arrived, but his mother was sitting anxiously by the window waiting for her little boy to come home. He rubbed his nose on the glass until she noticed that he was there, then placed a finger to his lips cautioning her to be quiet. She raised the window softly and whispered: “Snythergen, what is the matter?” “Mother, dear, I am going away. I cannot stand going to school any longer. I am too big and they are beginning to laugh at me. I was never meant for a student anyway. I am going to live in the forest with the trees. They will not make fun of me. I have made myself a suit of bark and branches which makes me look just like one of them. Some day I will come back to you and take you to my new home. But now I must leave you and go and seek my fortune!”