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           TwoliveoaksstoodattheedgeoftheRadleylot;theirrootsreachedoutintotheside-roadandmadeitbumpy.Somethingaboutoneofthetreesattractedmyattention.

           Sometinfoilwasstickinginaknot-holejustabovemyeyelevel,winkingatmeintheafternoonsun.Istoodontiptoe,hastilylookedaroundoncemore,reachedintothehole,andwithdrewtwopiecesofchewinggumminustheirouterwrappers.

           Myfirstimpulsewastogetitintomymouthasquicklyaspossible,butIrememberedwhereIwas.Iranhome,andonourfrontporchIexaminedmyloot.Thegumlookedfresh.Isniffeditanditsmelledallright.Ilickeditandwaitedforawhile.WhenIdidnotdieIcrammeditintomymouth:Wrigley’sDouble-Mint.

           WhenJemcamehomeheaskedmewhereIgotsuchawad.ItoldhimIfoundit.

           "Don’teatthingsyoufind,Scout."

           "Thiswasn’tontheground,itwasinatree."

           Jemgrowled.

           "Wellitwas,"Isaid."Itwasstickinginthattreeyonder,theonecomin’fromschool."

           "Spititoutrightnow!"

           Ispatitout.Thetangwasfading,anyway."I’vebeenchewin’itallafternoonandIain’tdeadyet,notevensick."