And　I　was　in　the　middle　of　making　a　mental　list　of　all　the

things　I　was　going　to　show　my　father　when　I　heard　a　noise

below。

I　looked　down；　and　parked　right　beneath　me　were　two　trucks。　Big　trucks。　One　of　them　was

towing　a　long；　empty　trailer；　and　the　other　had　a　cherry

picker　on　it—the　kind　they　use　to　work　on　overhead　power　lines　and　telephone　poles。

There　were　four　men　standing　around　talking；　drinking　from　thermoses；　and　I　almost　called

down　to　them；　“I'm　sorry；　but　you　can't　park　there…。

That's　a　bus　stop！”　But　before　I　could；　one　of　the　men　reached　into　the　back　of　a　truck　and

started　unloading　tools。　Gloves。　Ropes。　A　chain。

Earmuffs。　And　then　chain　saws。　Three　chain　saws。

And　still　I　didn't　get　it。　I　kept　looking　around　for　what　it　was　they　could　possibly　be　there　to　cut

down。　Then　one　of　the　kids　who　rides　the　bus

showed　up　and　started　talking　to　them；　and　pretty　soon　he　was　pointing　up　at　me。

One　of　the　men　called；　“Hey！　You　better　e　down　from　there。　We　gotta　take　this　thing

down。”

I　held　on　to　the　branch　tight；　because　suddenly　it　felt　as　though　I　might　fall。　I　managed　to

choke　out；　“The　tree？”

“Yeah；　now　e　on　down。”

“But　who　told　you　to　cut　it　down？”

“The　owner！”　he　called　back。

“But　why？”

Even　from　forty　feet　up　I　could　see　him　scowl。　“Because　he's　gonna　build　himself　a　house；

and　he　can't　very　well　do　that