“Oh, if he ever gets tied on the clothes line that will be the last of
him!” thought Bawly. “I wonder how I can save him?”

Bawly thought, and thought, and thought, and finally he thought of his
bean shooter, and the beans he still had with him.

“That’s the very thing!” he whispered. Then he hid down in the grass,
where the boy couldn’t see him, and just as that boy was about to tie
Jollie to the line, Bawly put a bean in the shooter, put the shooter in
his mouth, puffed out his cheeks and “bango!” a bean hit the boy on the
nose!

“Ha!” cried the boy. “Who did that?” He looked all around and he
thought, maybe, it was a hailstone, but there weren’t any storm clouds
in the sky. Then the boy once more started to tie Jollie to the line.

“Bungo!” went a bean on his left ear, hitting him quite hard.

“Stop that!” the boy cried, winking his eyes very fast.

“Cracko!” went a bean on his right ear, for Bawly was blowing them very
fast now.

“Oh, wait until I get hold of you, whoever you are!” shouted the boy,
looking all around, but he could see no one, for Bawly was hiding in the
grass.

“Smacko!” went a bean on the boy’s nose again, and then he danced up and
down, and was so excited that he dropped poor Jollie in the soft grass,