THE HONEY SEEKERS
Two very sober boys came forth from their interview with the big
chief. It was not that their punishment for infraction of the two most
rigidly enforced rules of the camp--jumping bounds and building
fires--was to be so severe. In fact they were getting off much lighter
than they had dared to hope for, being ordered to police camp for one
month and also being denied the privilege of joining any of the
various special parties going out with the guides for two and three
day trips. Dr. Merriam considered that their experience had been in
the nature of punishment, severe enough to warrant him in being
lenient in his dealings with the culprits.
He had simply talked to them, quietly, kindly, with no shadow of
resentment, no suggestion of scolding. It was just a plain talk as man
to man, in which the doctor made clear to them how the welfare of all
is wholly dependent upon the individual, and that the breaking of
laws made for the community in no way harms those in authority, but is
an outrage upon the great body politic and in time is bound to react
upon the lawbreaker.
"The honor of Woodcraft Camp as a whole is to be safeguarded only by
keeping unsullied the honor of each individual member. By your acts of
deliberate disobedience yesterday you not only besmirched your own
honor as Scouts under oath, but you blotted the honor of the entire
camp. Buxby, by your own confession you have sought to take upon your
shoulders the entire blame for this unfortunate affair. The motive
does you credit. But, my boy," he concluded, turning to Spud, "I want
you to realize that weakness which allows one to follow another in
wrongdoing is quite as blameworthy as the act of the leader, and that
therefore I hold you equally culpable with Buxby in this affair."
His face lighted with one of his rare smiles. "I believe that from now
on I can trust both of you implicitly," he said, giving each the
Scout's grip.
"The thing that hurts me most is the fact that the big chief won't
let the findin' of that bee tree score for the Delawares. There's
fifty points thrown away just because I wouldn't take your advice,
Spud, and wait till we got permission to go out of bounds," said
Billy, as half an hour later the two boys sat at one end of the mess
table making up for their prolonged fast.
Spud stopped a huge slice of bread and butter half-way to his mouth.
"What about that second line we ain't run down yet?" he asked slowly.
Billy stared at him for a minute, then suddenly choked over the cup of
hot cocoa he was drinking. When he had recovered his breath a broad
smile lighted his battered face.
"Spud, old Scout, we win!" he exulted. "Here's where we beat the big
chief after all! Why didn't I think of it before? It's as easy as
picking up chips at a wood-pile. We haven't said a word about that
second line. We won't, except to Woodhull. We'll take him along and
run that line clear to bounds. Then we'll show Louis how to use that
bee box, and let him go on and find the tree. You know there are no
bounds for the tribe leaders. Fifty points for the Delawares---- Oh,
my lucky stars!" Billy finished with a whoop that brought the cook
running to see what the trouble was.
In the meantime Dr. Merriam was having a conference with Big Jim at
the headquarters. "I tell yer, doctor, thet leetle scatterbrain hev
got more woods sense than three-fourths o' th' rest o' these
youngsters put together. Wish yer could see thet camp o' theirn.
Couldn't 'a' built it no better myself. An' then he had sense enough
t' stick right thar and send up them smoke signals. If he only hed th'
level top piece o' thet youngster thet went in t' Lonesome with me
he'd hev th' makin' o' one o' th' best leaders in camp, even if he did
hear a bar." The big guide chuckled.
"So you don't take any stock in the bear?" asked the doctor.
"Not th' least leetle mite," replied Jim. "Folks thet's lost allers
hears bars or wildcats. I been watchin' out some sharp an' I ain't see
no sign o' bar nigher'n ten mile o' this camp in th' last three
years."
"Where did those bees come from?" asked the doctor.
"Feller thet lived in this camp th' summer 'fore yer bought it had a
couple o' hives. Guess some o' 'em must hev got away from him. Thet
youngster cert'nly did run 'em down slick. Hadn't never noticed th'
leetle honey bugs myself."
The doctor smiled. "I had," said he, "and I had intended to line them
out some day, but Billy got ahead of me, and as you say, he certainly
did the trick very cleverly. The thing that pleases me, however, is
the fact that he was observing enough to notice them. I don't believe
that there is another soul in camp beside myself who had discovered
them. Jim, that boy has got the right kind of stuff in him. We've got
to take him in hand and develop his bump of caution and sense of
responsibility."
"If he could run with young Upton fer a while----" began the guide.
"The very thing I had in mind," interrupted the doctor. "When Buxby's
period of probation is over I think we'll have to plan a trip for you
with those two youngsters, one that will put them on their mettle. It
will be an interesting experiment. What do you think about opening
that bee tree?"
The guide grinned. "A leetle honey would kind o' sweeten things up
some," he ventured.
"All right," replied the doctor. "Be prepared to take a small party in
to get it day after to-morrow."
Big Jim's "honey party," as he called it, was drawn wholly from the
Delawares, in honor of the tree having been discovered by members of
that tribe. It included Woodhull, Tug Benson, Upton and Chip Harley.
Billy and Spud were denied the privilege of going out of bounds, so
could go no farther than the edge of the old clearing. Spud announced
that he had had enough of bees anyhow, and chose to stay in camp. But
Billy was heart-broken. However, he was fair minded enough to admit to
himself that he deserved all that was coming to him, and hiding his
chagrin led the expedition to the old clearing and gave the guide the
line from the stump on the upper edge. He watched the others disappear
into the woods in single file and then sat down to possess himself in
such patience as he could until they should return. He had no doubt of
their success in locating the tree and as Big Jim was no novice at
cutting bee trees, he anticipated no trouble on that score. All the
party wore gloves and carried mosquito netting to protect faces and
necks from the maddened bees. In fact both Tug and Chip had their
veils on when they entered the woods. The guide carried an axe, as did
Woodhull, while Walter and Tug each carried a galvanized iron water
pail for the expected honey. Billy knew that the guide would run no
risk of having his charges badly stung and would undoubtedly smoke the
hive well before laying it open.
The minutes passed on leaden wings. What was the matter? Why didn't
Jim whoop when he found the tree as he had agreed to do? Could he have
overrun it? A slight rustle in the bushes on the edge of the clearing
some thirty yards to the right caught Billy's attention. Something was
moving there. To kill time he started to investigate. "Probably a
porcupine," he muttered to himself, as he softly stole forward.
Creeping on hands and knees to the shelter of a fallen tree trunk he
cautiously raised his head and peeped over. Instead of the expected
porcupine he saw a little brown furry animal vainly trying to pull
over an old log, and emitting funny little discontented whines as it
tugged. At first glance it looked something like a clumsy puppy, and
then the truth flashed across Billy and made his eyes pop out. It was
a bear cub, a very little fellow at that.
With impulsive Billy to act first and think afterward was ever the
governing principle. It was so now. Quietly dropping down behind the
tree trunk he hastily slipped off his jacket. Then rising to his feet
he reached forward and threw it over the head of the unsuspecting
little animal, recklessly throwing himself after it. For a few minutes
there was a desperate struggle accompanied by muffled squeals. Then
Billy succeeded in getting the wildly clawing fore-paws smothered in
the folds of the jacket and, pinning down the stout little hind-legs,
he had his victim helpless.
"Gee, now I've got him what'll I do with him?" he panted. A sudden
inspiration came to him. He remembered noticing a huge hollow stump
in the middle of the clearing. If he could get him over to that and
drop him into it he could be held prisoner until the bee hunters
returned. Wrapping the enveloping jacket still tighter around the
imprisoned head and fore-paws Billy gathered the struggling bundle in
his arms and started for the stump.
Just before he reached it pandemonium broke loose in the woods behind
him. There were wild yells in all keys from Big Jim's deep base to
Chip Harley's shrill falsetto. Billy chuckled. "Must have stirred them
bees up something awful," he muttered. "Funny I didn't hear 'em
choppin'. There, you little fiend!" He dropped the cub into the hollow
and spread the jacket over the top. Then for the first time he
realized that a baby as small as his captive must have a mother at no
great distance. His face went a trifle pale under its coat of tan. "I
wish them fellers would quit fightin' bees and come out," he muttered.
Almost with the thought his wish was gratified. Chip came first. The
bee veil was still over his head and he looked not on the order of
his coming. He floundered out of the brush, caught a heedless toe
under a stick and fell headlong. He was up in a flash, blindly
struggled through a raspberry tangle that he might have gone around,
bumped into a half-hidden stump and went down again with a little
moan. Then he was on his feet again and passed Billy as if he was
trying to break the hundred yard sprint record.
Tug was a good second, and he had little advantage over Chip in the
method of his coming. He seemed to have some pressing engagement back
at camp, and was "going strong" when he passed Billy.
Walter and Woodhull appeared next, but as they were unencumbered by
veils they picked their footing with more discretion, and Louis
stopped as soon as he reached the open, Walter following his example
half-way to Billy. Lastly appeared Big Jim, who came out of the woods
leisurely, his axe still in his hand. Jim was grinning. It was clear
to Billy that something had happened, but that whatever it was the
guide considered the danger past now.
Something had happened. Following the guide in single file they had
proceeded some distance when they became aware of a humming sound
which steadily increased in volume as they advanced. Suddenly Big Jim
abruptly halted and held up a warning hand. There was a puzzled look
on the guide's face.
"Somethin' has made them bees plumb mad fer sartin," he whispered.
The volume of sound increased. It was as if off in the tree tops
beyond a huge top was spinning. The brush was still too thick for them
to see the tree itself. Then into the steady hum of the bees there
broke a new note, half growl, half whine, followed by the ripping
sound of rent wood.
The guide's face cleared. "You boys are goin' t' see somethin' in a
minute yer won't likely ever see agen. Now come on, and be mighty
careful about not makin' no noise," he whispered.
A few feet further on the thick young growth opened up and they came
in full view of Billy's bee tree. What they saw drew a startled
exclamation from the three younger boys, at once silenced by a warning
hiss from Big Jim. There, fifty feet from the ground, gripping the
tree with hind legs and one huge fore arm, was an immense black bear.
The long claws of the paw that was free had been hooked into the
entrance hole and a long strip the length of the crack which had led
to Billy's undoing a few days previous had been torn out, exposing the
hollow packed with comb. Bruin was then occupied in scooping out great
pieces of comb dripping with honey and transferring them to her mouth,
whining and growling and stopping every other second to slap at the
bees clustered in an angry cloud about her head.
What no one did see, because all eyes were turned up instead of on the
ground, were two little brown bundles of fur that scurried for the
shelter of a windfall.
"Ain't a mite o' danger," whispered the guide, noting the panicky look
on some of the faces. "In 'bout a minute yer'll see th' worst scared
bar in the North Woods. Now don't run when she comes down if yer don't
want th' hull camp laughin' at yer," he warned, seeing Chip and Tug
already beginning to edge away.
Had Jim been aware of the presence of the two cubs he would have
adopted a very different course of action. He was counting on the fact
that despite its great size and immense strength the black bear is one
of the most timid of all wild animals in the presence of man unless
wounded, cornered or called upon to protect its young. Perhaps
timidity is not quite a fair indictment. Let us say rather that of all
wild animals none has come to have a more wholesome respect for man,
and it is a well-known fact that not even a deer will bolt quicker at
man's approach than will this black comedian of the big woods.
It was with this fact in mind that the guide advanced a few steps and
suddenly sent forth an ear-splitting whoop. Things happened then with
a rapidity that left no time for thought. Walter stoutly maintains to
this day that the bear neither slid nor climbed down--that she simply
let go and dropped. Certain it is that the echo of Jim's wild yell was
still ringing in the woods when she landed with a thump that brought
forth a grunt. Then, instead of the mad flight on which the guide had
counted, she reared on her haunches with her back to the tree,
growling savagely, her little pig eyes red with rage.
[Illustration: "RUN!" HE YELLED]
Big Jim took in the situation at a glance. "Run!" he yelled, himself
holding his ground and swinging aloft his double edged axe.
Even as he uttered the warning the bear charged. Walter, who stood a
little to one side, unconscious of what he was doing, hurled the pail
he was holding full at the angry beast and turned to run. This proved
the salvation of Big Jim. The rolling clattering object distracted the
bear's attention for an instant. She paused long enough to give the
pail a vicious blow which by chance sent it clattering noisily into
the old windfall behind which the cubs had taken refuge. There was a
frightened squeal followed by the sound of scurrying feet among dead
leaves.
Big Jim heard the squeal and understood. "Cubs, by gum!" he exclaimed.
The bear heard too. She stopped, irresolute, half turned toward the
windfall, then faced the guide and reared, growling savagely. There
was another faint squeal from beyond the windfall. The bear dropped to
all fours and slowly retreated in the direction of her cubs, pausing
every few steps to turn and growl threateningly over her shoulder.
It was the guide's opportunity to retire in good order and he made
haste to avail himself of it, reaching the clearing just in time to
see Chip and Tug disappear down the home trail on the far side.
Now that the danger was over the humor of the situation tickled him
immensely and as he with Walter and Woodhull approached Billy all
three were finding relief in a hearty laugh.
All at once they became aware that there was something unusual about
Billy. He was dancing around the old stump like a lunatic, yelling,
"I've got him, Jim! I've got him! I've got him!" He was without his
jacket and his shirt was in tatters. His face and arms were bleeding
from deep scratches.
The guide gaped at him open mouthed. "Great smoke, sonny," he drawled,
"yer look as if yer was th' one thet had met a bar, not us."
"I have, Jim, I have! It's in there!" yelped Billy.
The guide peeped into the hollow, and a long drawn whistle of
astonishment escaped him. Then abruptly his face sobered and he cast
an apprehensive glance back at the forest.
"Must hev been three cubs," he said, reaching in and catching the
whimpering little bear by the scruff of the neck. "Bars don't
generally hev but two, but I've heerd say thet sometimes they has
three. This leetle chap must hev strayed off while his mother was
a-clawin' fer thet honey. I reckon we better be movin' right along. It
ain't goin' t' be no ways healthy round these parts when Mrs. Bar
misses this leetle chap."
Wrapping the cub in Billy's jacket once more Big Jim set the pace for
camp at a rate that kept the smaller boys on a dog trot, not without
many a fearful glance behind them.
Camp was reached safely, where the news of Billy's capture spread like
wild-fire, and for once he found himself the hero he had so often
pictured himself; wherever he went he was the center of an admiring
group.
The doctor was petitioned in a round robin signed by every member of
the camp for permission to keep the cub as a pet. This was granted,
and "Honey," as he was called, soon became one of the most important
members of Woodcraft, where his droll antics were a constant source of
amusement.
The Delawares were jubilant, for Billy's prize scored them fifty
points, and when a few days later the second bee tree was successfully
lined out and this time the honey obtained without adventure, Billy's
popularity was secure for all time, for this also added fifty points,
as he had foreseen it would.
"He was a harum-scarum before, and this sure will be the ruin of him,"
Woodhull bewailed to his chum, Seaforth.
But Woodhull was wrong. There was a change in Billy. He was the same
lovable, light-hearted boy as before, but the careless, reckless
spirit that had so often led him into mischief was lacking. For the
first time he seemed to have a serious purpose in life. And it dated
back to the morning after the lonely night in the forest. Billy was
finding himself.
"I reckon he did hear a bar thet night," said Big Jim to the doctor as
they discussed Billy's episode with the cub. And Billy knows he did.