Publisher's Synopsis
"Land sakes alive, Daniel, look at that boy!" "Where is he, Marthy?" "Up there on the old apple tree a-hangin' down by his toes! My gracious, does he wanter kill himself?" "Thet's wot he does, Marthy," grumbled old Daniel Hawkins. "He'll do it, jest so ez we kin pay his funeral expenses. Never seen sech a boy before in my born days!" "Go after him with the horsewhip, Daniel. Oh! goodness gracious, look at thet now!" And the woman, or, rather, Tartar, Mrs. Martha Hawkins, held up her hands in terror as the boy on the apple tree suddenly gave a swing, released his feet, and, with a graceful turn forward, landed on his feet on the ground. "Wot do yer mean by sech actions, yer young good-fer-nothin'?" cried Daniel Hawkins, rushing forward, his face full of sudden rage. "Do yer want ter break yer wuthless neck?" "Not much, I don't," replied the boy, with a little smile creeping over his sunburned, handsome face. "I'm afraid if I did that I would never get over it, Mr. Hawkins." "Don't try ter joke me, Leo Dunbar, or I'll break every bone in your worthless body!"
