The Thief and the Beanstalk (Further Tales Adventures) Read Online Free Page B

coarse bark, before he bounced off and hit the ground.
    The gang hooted with laughter. Some doubled over with mirth; some merrily slapped each other on the shoulders. The big crazy one was lying on the ground, pointing and kicking madly.
    Nick held his palm to his stinging face. He looked at the tree again, plotted a safer way up using the swarming vines for grips, and began to climb. The higher he went, the less the gang laughed. He felt a rush of satisfaction as he silenced their ridicule.
    Standing on a great horizontal branch, far above the gang, Nick stared down at Finch with a defiant expression.
    “All the way up, boy!” Finch shouted through cuppedhands. Nick looked to the upper reaches of the tree. He had a problem now. The vines did not grow this high, and the only branch within easy reach appeared unsafe. Its bark had fallen off, exposing the pale dry wood underneath. Sure enough, when he tugged on the branch, it cracked off in his hands. He let it drop, giving it a careful nudge in Finch’s direction as he released it. Finch glared up as the rotted branch landed inches from his feet.
    With that limb gone, Nick had only one option left. The next branch was higher and farther away. He couldn’t reach it without jumping. If his aim was off or his grip was weak, his life would end in a bloody crunch on the forest floor.
    He heard Finch’s voice from far below. “Hurry up, Nick. Stew’s getting cold!”
    Nick looked at the gang. Only the big toothless one was laughing now, his tongue lolling like a dog’s. The others stood watchfully, probably hoping for a dreadful and spectacular ending.
    Nick steadied himself with one hand on the trunk beside him, bent his knees, and launched himself. For a moment that seemed infinite, he was airborne. Then the branch slapped into his fingers. His legs swung under and beyond the branch, the force nearly making him lose his grip. As he swung back, he was able to secure his handhold. He heard voices calling from below.
    “That’s the way, Nick!” “Thattaboy, Nick!” Most ofthe band clapped and whistled their approval.
    He waited for his swinging motion to subside, then hooked his leg over the branch and pulled himself up. The rest of the climb was easy. Branches radiated like spokes from all sides, and he soon reached the top of the tree.
    Nick clung to the thin trunk and swayed in the refreshing breeze that whistled over the forest canopy. The ancient oak towered over its neighbors. He looked to the west, where the sun had already set. Beyond the forest, he spied a handsome white fortress, perhaps two miles away. Then he caught the scent of the boiling stew far below him and remembered why he’d dared to climb so high.
    “More, please,” Nick mumbled, the last spoonful of stew bulging in one cheek. He slid the empty bowl toward Pewt, who looked at Finch. This would be the fifth helping.
    “He said I could eat all I want!” Nick reminded Pewt loudly. Finch gave the cook a single sharp nod. With a heavy sigh, Pewt ladled the bowl full again. The rest of the gang waited anxiously, to see if there would be any left for them.
    Nick scraped the bowl clean, then dropped the spoon and licked the insides. He slammed the bowl to the table, leaned back, and let out a deafening belch.
    A full stomach was a novelty for him, and his beganto ache. Nick walked, slightly bent, to a soft place on the ground near the fire. He lay down on his side and rubbed his protesting belly. Then exhaustion overtook him. His head bobbed and his eyelids fluttered shut.
    Finch watched the whole time, with narrowed eyes and a subtle smile. He told Toothless John to fetch a spare blanket and cover the boy.
    When someone woke him with a whispered warning, Nick didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping. One rough hand was over Nick’s mouth so he could not yell. The other was across the top of his head, pinning him down so he could not turn to see who was behind him.
    “Don’t make a sound, Nick. If