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!”

The poor mother’s heart was almost breaking. The tears streamed from her eyes, but deep in her heart she knew it was best for him to go. Like mothers the world over she knew how to sacrifice herself when it was for the good of her child. She kissed him again and again. Just then the father turned uneasily in his sleep.

“Hurry, hurry, my darling boy! If your father hears you he will give you a terrible spanking.” As he rushed away, great tears were dashed from his eyes by the branches of tree-tops.

Snythergen went straight to the forest and very early the next morning dressed in his suit of green and took his place as a tree. For a long time he stood very still, holding his branches out and waving his leaves in the breeze. “I wish something would happen,” he said to himself. “It certainly bores one to be a tree.” He had been standing there since daybreak and the sun was now high in the sky. The birds as yet had not lighted on him. Some instinct made them hesitate. At last a daring woodpecker approached his trunk, and began a series of sharp pecks. Snythergen stifled an “ouch” and made a wry face. The first woodpecker was followed by others. They attacked his bark until it itched and smarted all over. In spite of his discomfort he tried to stand very still for he thought it beneath a tree’s dignity to show its feelings.

Unfortunately Snythergen was ticklish and whenever the birds touched a sensitive spot he could not help wiggling. This frightened the woodpeckers for a while and they flew to a neighboring limb to gaze at the strange tree. But as soon as they stopped tickling Snythergen always stopped shaking. This puzzled the birds. They could not understand why they felt the tree shake when they pecked, but could not see it move when they stopped to look at it. Finally they decided that they only imagined it moved, and after that they did not fly away unless the wiggling was very violent—which it was whenever a bird happened to blunder upon Snythergen’s “funny bone.” Snythergen was beginning to realize that the life of a tree is not all joy. Hardly could he wait for night to come when the birds would fly away. In the meantime he tried and tried to think of a plan to outwit them. “I have it!” he whispered to himself at last.

When it was quite dark he pulled off his tree suit, and went to a near-by town to purchase several xylophones. These are musical instruments with keys usually made of wood, and played on with a little mallet. Snythergen took the keys apart and strung them about his trunk so that they hung about him like a skirt of mail, to protect his bark from woodpeckers. The next morning when the birds began to circle around him, he smiled to himself. When one of them lighted and began pecking away, a cheery sound came forth. And when the others followed his example the whole tree became a bedlam of musical jingles. “Peck away, peck away!” said Snythergen to himself, “you cannot hurt me now!”

It was not long before the strange sounds issuing from the tree attracted all the wild life of the forest. The air became almost black with flying things, and the ground was swarming with animals little and big. Even a bear came along and Snythergen trembled from roots to peak leaf. How he wanted to run home to his mother! It would be easier to go back and face his schoolmates than to stay alone with a bear. But at heart Snythergen was really a brave little boy and his courage soon returned. He had set out to be a tree and he made up his mind he would be a worthy one. He did not want the forest to be ashamed of him. “I must not be the first tree that ever ran away. It would set all the others such a bad example!” he thought. So he held his teeth together very firmly, and stood up ever so straight and stiff. “I must appear calm and unconcerned,” he said to himself, but his heart beat so rapidly and thumped so loudly he thought the bear must surely hear it. But the big brute was too much absorbed in the strange concert to think of anything else, and did not suspect that a spare-ribbed boy trembled behind a disguise of bark, boughs and leaves.

After a while the novelty wore off and the bear went about his business, much to Snythergen’s relief. The others, too, felt easier when the big brute was gone, and crowded more closely about the strange tree.