“I’ll have to climb up to get them,” he murmured, and threw down his gun and his game bag.  A limb was handy and he swung himself up into the tree and worked his way toward the trunk, where the squirrels lay.

The tree was old and partly split in half and the center of the trunk was hollow.  Just as he reached out to take hold of one of the squirrels, his foot slipped and he began to slide down into the hollow.  He clutched at the smooth wood, but could not stay his progress, and like a flash he disappeared from the sunlight into almost utter darkness!

Unfortunately for the young hunter, the tree was hollow to its very roots, and he went to the bottom, reaching it with a jolt that made his teeth crack together.  His hands were above him and he was wedged in so tightly that he could not bring them down.

“Well, of all things!” he murmured, when he could catch his breath.  “I am a prisoner now and no mistake!”

He looked up, but a slight twist of the tree cut off the sunlight from overhead, although he could see dimly after his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the semi-gloom.

Shep waited to get back his breath, and then started to feel around for something by which he might raise himself.  Not a projection of any sort was at hand.

“How in the world am I to get out of this?” was the question which he asked himself.

He could not answer the riddle, and the cold perspiration stood out on his forehead.  Was it possible that he must remain a prisoner in the tree forever?

“I’ve got to get out somehow!” he told himself, desperately.  “I must get out!”

Again he felt around, and tried to raise himself by means of his feet.  He went up several inches, but that was all, and a moment later slipped down again.

It must be confessed that Shep was now thoroughly alarmed, and he trembled a little as he thought of the possible outcome of this unlookedfor adventure.  Perhaps he would have to remain there until he died of hunger and thirst.  Long afterwards his friends might find his bones.

Then he thought of crying for help and gave half a dozen shouts.  But no answer came back, for nobody was in that vicinity.

Again he tried to raise himself, and by a mighty effort got up a distance of a foot and a half.  But that seemed to be the limit and, utterly exhausted, he dropped back, gasping for breath.

“It’s no use,” he mused, dismally.  “I’m caught in a regular vise.”

Then he thought of cutting his way out of the tree and after a long struggle managed to get at his jack-knife.  But cutting in the position he occupied was a slow process, and made his hand ache long before he had even a hole through which he might peer.

At last he gave up the attempt and stood still, not knowing what to do next.  He felt that he was as good as buried alive.  What was to be the outcome of this perilous adventure?