So he sat on Tigger’s back and up they went.
And for the first ten feet Tigger said happily to himself, “Up we go!”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“I always said Tiggers could climb trees.”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“Not that it’s easy, mind you.”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“Of course, there’s the coming-down too. Backwards.”
And then he said:
“Which will be difficult . . . ”
“Unless one fell . . . ”
“when it would be . . . ”
“EASY.”
And at the word “easy” the branch he was standing on broke suddenly, and he just managed to clutch at the one above him as he felt himself going . . . and then slowly he got his chin over it . . . and then one back paw . . . and then the other . . . until at last he was sitting on it, breathing very quickly, and wishing that he had gone in for swimming instead.
Roo climbed off, and sat down next to him.
“Oo, Tigger,” he said excitedly, “are we at the top?”
“No,” said Tigger.
“Are we going to the top?”
