Then very gently he bound his handkerchief about the opening.
Having done this, he cut into the branch with his scout knife within about six or eight inches of the nest.

When he had cut the branch almost through it was a pretty ticklish matter, straddling the stubby end, for he had the tip of the branch with the nest still in his hand and was in danger of losing his balance.
Sitting there with his legs pressed up tight against the under side of the branch so as to hold his balance on his precarious seat, he held the end in one hand while he carefully pulled away the twigs from the end beyond the nest.

Thus he had a piece of branch perhaps twenty inches long, with the nest hanging midway of it.

This he held with the greatest care, lest in turning the branch the delicate fabric by which it hung should strain and break away.

You would have thought that that little prisoner of the speckled head owned the tree, which in point of fact was owned by Temple Camp, notwithstanding its distance from the scout community.