We loaded the cart with the thick bamboo canes and our tools, and harnessed the cow to it, leaving the buffalo in the stable, as I wished the wound in his nostrils to be perfectly healed before I put him to any hard work.

I left Francis with his mother, to prepare our dinner, begging them not to forget the maccaroni.
We began at the entrance of the avenue to Falcon's Nest, where all the trees were much bent by the wind.

We raised them gently by a crowbar; I made a hole in the earth, in which one of my sons placed the bamboo props, driving them firmly down with a mallet, and we proceeded to another, while Ernest and Jack tied the trees to them with a long, tough, pliant plant, which I suspected was a species of _llana_.

As we were working, Fritz inquired if these fruit-trees were wild.
"A pretty question!" cried Jack.

"Do you think that trees are tamed like eagles or buffaloes?
You perhaps could teach them to bow politely, so that we might gather the fruit!" "You fancy you are a wit," said I, "but you speak like a dunce.