And that's when the natives come and get him. And it's easy,
too, because he can't see and all the fight is knocked out of him.
Oh boy, wasn't I glad I remembered that! I just tore out that box of fly
paper and pulled the sheets apart and dropped them on the ground. Some of
them fell upside down. I should worry. I tried to drop them so they'd fall
around the foot of the tree and a lot of them did. More than half of them
fell right side up. A couple of them stuck to the trunk, but I didn't care.
Maybe that would be good, I thought. Believe me, in about ten seconds I had
the ground around the tree covered with fly paper. He'd have to do a fancy
two-step if he wanted to get between them.
All the while he was crouching and watching me with those two eyes that
were just like fire. Pretty soon a sheet of fly paper drifted down right
near him and he pawed it. Maybe he thought it was a chop, hey? It just
caught his paw and he tried to wipe it off against his face. Good night!
There he was with one of his eyes and the whole top of his head plastered
flat. He looked as if he had been in a fight.
Then he came closer to the trunk, pawing at his head all the time and
stepped, kerflop, right on another sheet-plunked his foot right down in
the middle of it.
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