WATCHING FOR THE HONEY THIEF
"WHOOP! there she goes over with a crash!" shouted Sandy, throwing his
cap up into the air, as the tall sycamore came down just as they had
planned.
[Illustration: "'WHOOP! THERE SHE GOES!'"]
He started to dash forward as soon as the tree had struck, eager to
ascertain what sort of prize they had drawn in the lottery; but his
more careful brother laid hands on him.
"Don't try it!" he exclaimed. "Why, they are so wild just now, they'd
sting you to death!"
"But how are we going to get at the honey, Bob?" demanded the younger
lad.
"You run to the house, and tell the others the good news. I'll be
making veils out of this thin cloth. Then we have the gloves we used
last winter. Bring a lot of pails back with you; for I think we'll need
all you can find."
Sandy hastened back to the cabin, where he electrified his father and
mother and little Kate with the joyful news. They got together every
available vessel for carrying the expected spoils; and then Sandy led
the way back to where his brother awaited them.
On the trail he was compelled to explain just how they had taken Pat
O'Mara's advice with regard to tracing the honey gatherers; and what
splendid success had resulted. Kate was singing with delight over the
anticipated store of sweets that would reward their skill in locating
the bee tree, for, in those early pioneer days, as a rule the only
sugar the settlers had was obtained through boiling down the sap of the
sugar maple tree in the early spring; or in discovering some secret
store of honey in the forest.
Bob had arranged things completely to his satisfaction while his
brother was away. Both of the young pioneers donned the veils and
gloves, so that the bees might not take a terrible revenge on the
destroyers of their home.
Bob had also made a smudge with which he expected to partly stupefy
the angry little creatures. Smoke always frightens bees, for they seem
to think that fire is about to devastate their hive. Nature influences
them to immediately load up with all the honey they can possibly carry,
with the idea of taking it to some new retreat; and while in this
condition they are comparatively harmless.
Presently Sandy came back to the spot where the others were standing
in safety. He had a bucket almost full of broken combs from which the
richness was oozing in a manner that set little Kate wild with delight.
As for the good mother the sight was undoubtedly a pleasant one for
her, since it promised many a delightful treat in the long winter
months ahead.
David Armstrong immediately started home with the bucket, so as to
empty it, and once more put it into service. Bob was still working
there in the midst of the ruined hive.
"And he says there are, oh! ever so many more buckets of better honey
than this!" Sandy had cried, as he brought out a second supply, in
which the combs were less broken than before, and seemed newer.
"The whole air is filled with the perfume of honey," remarked Mary
Armstrong. "It hardly seems right to rob the poor little workers in
this way, after they have stored it up so carefully; though we do need
it badly, for there will be little sugar in our home except what we
make next spring."
"Oh! Bob says there'll be just oceans of it left, spilled on the
ground," Sandy went on, "and the bees will get it all, sooner or later.
Plenty of time for 'em to seal it up for this winter. They always
have ten times too much, and that's why some of it is so old and dark
looking. Bob says he is not taking that if he can help it."
"Why, I could smell the honey half way to the house," remarked Mr.
Armstrong, as he came up just then. "And, if there happens to be a bear
within half a mile of this place, you can depend on it that he'll be
prowling around here this very night."
"That was just what Bob was saying, father!" declared Sandy. "He showed
me marks on the smooth trunk of the sycamore, where a bear must have
climbed up ever so often, as if trying to reach in at the honey that
was just too far away for him to steal. And some of the scratches were
so fresh Bob says they must have been made only last night."
After numerous trips to the cabin to empty the buckets the pleasant
task was finally completed. Bob declared that he had secured about all
of the honey that was worth carrying away. There still remained a great
store of the sticky stuff; but it was either spilled on the ground, or
else so darkened by age that it did not seem worth while carrying it
off.
"We'll leave it to the poor little fellows," laughed Bob; "for they're
as busy as beavers right now loading up and flying off to another
hollow tree one of 'em has found. And I think we're pretty lucky to get
off as easy as we did, eh, Sandy?"
Sandy had removed the thin cloth veil that covered his face, and by
this action revealed the fact that at least one angry bee had found a
way to pierce his armor; for his left cheek was swollen so that his eye
seemed unusually small. Some wet clay took the pain out, however, and
in due course of time the swelling would go down.
It was not the first time Sandy had felt a sting from a bee, nor did he
expect it would be the last. And, when he looked at the glorious fruits
of their raid on that big sycamore hive, he forgot that he had suffered
in the good cause.
"Well, do we try for that bear to-night, Bob?" he asked of his brother,
later on in the afternoon, when he could see once more fairly well with
both eyes.
"I think we would be silly not to," replied his brother; "especially
since we set the trap ourselves when we cut down that bee tree."
"He's just sure to come nosing around, don't you think?"
"Don't see how any bear could stand back, with all that odor in the
air. Besides, it looked to me as if the old fellow might have been
paying a visit to that tree every single night for a whole month, there
were so many scratches on the bark. So you can just depend on it that
he's got his mouth set for honey."
"And then there's another thing in our favor," Sandy went on saying, as
he glanced upward toward the heavens, an action that caused his brother
to remark:
"I'd wager a shilling that you are thinking of the moon being nearly
full to-night, which is a fact. That is in our favor, and, on the
whole, I'd be inclined to believe that we may be tasting a bear steak
by to-morrow."
"One good thing leads to another with us, Bob. First a prize in the way
of gallons and gallons of prime honey, and then, to finish, perhaps
a fat bear in the bargain! But, remember, you said I was to have the
first shot at the old honey thief, if he does make his appearance?"
"All right," answered Bob, good naturedly; "and I'll keep my word; but
if I were you I would go slow about calling names. Please remember that
there are some others in the same boat. Only, in our case, we succeeded
in getting the spoils; and there we have the better of old Bruin, who
climbed that tree so very many times only to have his trouble for his
pains."
Of course the lads took their parents into their plans, for it might
be their absence would worry the little mother, who sometimes still
thought of that wild ringing of the alarm bell, and all it might have
meant.
Shortly after they had had their supper, the two lads took their
muskets, and passed out into the night. As they had said, it promised
to be just a glorious opportunity to carry out such a plan as they had
in mind.
The moon rode high in the eastern heavens, being not very far from
full. Not a cloud seemed to dim the bright light, so that, for a short
distance around them, things looked almost as plain as in the daytime.
As the two boys had done considerable hunting in common there was
little necessity for talking things over, or arranging any programme.
When the honey-loving bear came along, eager to satisfy his craving for
sweets, of course Sandy would wait for a favorable chance to get in a
fair shot. And, unless his aim were poor, or some accident occurred to
otherwise mar the arrangements, that would wind matters up.
Arriving at the fallen bee tree, the young pioneers quickly decided
just where they should secrete themselves. In doing this they exercised
their knowledge as woodrangers, for much depended on the direction of
the wind.
"It seems to be blowing toward the home quarter," remarked Bob, as
they stood there, fixing certain facts in their minds. "That favors us
finely, because the chances are ten to one he will come from the other
side of the opening made by our felling the big sycamore. So you see he
won't be able to smell us."
"How will this place do, Bob?" suggested the younger brother, pointing
to what in his mind made a splendid hiding-nook, from which they could
peer forth, and see anything that took place just beyond.
"Could hardly be better; and so there is no use for us to look
further," Bob remarked. "Pick out your stand, Sandy, where you will be
able to shoot best. I'll be satisfied to take what is left."
This was soon arranged, and, having once settled down to wait, they
tried to keep as still as though made out of marble. Talking was
forbidden, even in whispers; and a cough would very likely have ruined
the whole affair, since the bear, if near-by at the time, must have
been warned of his danger, and with a "wuff" would turn to rush away.
An hour passed in this way. Fortunately the two lads were good waiters,
and had proved this on many another occasion in the past.
Sandy had allowed his thoughts to go out to other scenes, and was even
thinking of that fine young frontiersman, Simon Kenton, whom he admired
so much, when he felt his brother touch him softly on the shoulder. The
contact thrilled him, since it was the signal agreed on to denote that
the lumbering bear was coming!