BURNING OUT A HONEY THIEF
But it seemed that Felix was not destined to absorb all the adventures
that happened to be adrift up there in that neck of the woods adjoining
the mountain chain.
And the next one had to fall to the lot of Tom. It was such an admixture
of peril and humor, that whenever either of the chums happened to glance
up at the wall of the cabin, where the wretched looking pelt of a black
bear was stretched, almost invariably a grin would have to follow.
This is the way it came about:
Just a few days after Felix had been in that queer mix-up with the
wounded buck, and the two guides, Tom was on his way back from a little
line of traps, when the notion came to him to step aside from his beaten
path, and explore a dense patch of timber into which neither of them had
happened thus far to stroll.
There was no telling what he might not discover, for it certainly looked
dark and forbidding enough to shelter almost anything. As his catch of
furs that day chanced to be limited to a couple of muskrats, and a
single mink, Tom was just in the humor for striking at something out of
the common.
He hung the pelts from the limb of a tree, and in plain sight, so that
he might not have any particular difficulty about recovering the same;
and with his rifle in readiness, plunged into the tangled growth, which
was thicker than anything Tom had noticed around them.
Progress was rather slow, for he had to pass around many obstacles, so
dense was the vegetation in this low lying spot adjoining the marshy
tract where he found the muskrat colony. There was a sense of pleasure,
however, in peering around, not knowing at what minute a fleet doe might
jump up before him.
To his surprise, and also a little to his chagrin, the tempting place
did not appear to harbor any sort of game whatever. But then Tom was
enough of a sportsman to know that such often proves the case; the
likely spots turn out good for nothing; while, when least expected, luck
often springs upon the unwary.
Only one thing caught his attention in making his way along, that seemed
worth a second thought. Stooping down in the heart of the dense growth,
Tom picked something up, which he proceeded to examine with increasing
interest.
It seemed to be a piece of comb from the honey store of a wild colony of
bees, such as are found in nearly every section of the country south of
a certain belt, beyond which the winters are too severe for the busy
little insects.
Now, Tom had at some time in the past been in the company of a man who
had once made a living, far away in New England, gathering wild honey,
spruce gum, and many other products of the Maine pine woods. The subject
had interested the boy exceedingly, and he had asked many questions
relating to it, that brought him quite a store of information.
Just the sight and smell of this old piece of comb aroused within him an
eager desire to discover just where it came from. If only he could bring
home a pail of delicious honey, what would Felix say? Why, his mouth
began to water at the very thought of such a delightful accession to
their larder. Think of dripping sweetness flowing over the fine
flapjacks Felix liked to make, and in which he really excelled!
That was too much for Tom. He just couldn't stand it any longer, but
resolved that since game refused to spring up before his rifle, he would
forget all about hunting; save that somewhere in this thicket growth
there evidently lay a bee tree, fairly groaning with richness; and which
he was resolved to find, if it lay in his power to do so.
He looked up, but could see no sign near him indicating that bees had a
hive in any tree; in fact there was none of a suitable size right there.
Tom shrewdly guessed the truth. He knew that black bears have a sweet
tooth; and will go miles to rob a bee tree. The stings of thousands of
the little insects do not appear to bother Bruin a particle; perhaps he
is immune to the poison they inject; or else most of them fail to reach
his skin, on account of the thick hair.
Apparently, then, some thief of a bear was periodically robbing this
secret storehouse of its sweets, and had dragged this comb away with him
on a recent visit.
The comb, while somewhat discolored, had not been drained of its nectar
more than a few days, Tom thought. That would seem to indicate that the
hive could not be very far away. If he could only find it, with an axe
he might soon fell the tree in which it was secreted, and then take toll
of the preserves.
Every tree around came under his observation, and was only allowed to
pass after he had surveyed its entire trunk, and become convinced that
it had no hollow part in which a colony of busy workers might find a
home for the winter's sleep.
And now that he was upon the subject of bear, he remembered that only a
couple of days back he had himself seen signs of such an animal in the
woods, and wondered how it came that a black, usually hibernating at
this time of year, chanced to be moving around.
This explained it. Bruin had made a late discovery, and his appetite for
sweet things would not allow him to shut himself up until "the last horn
blew."
And perhaps, if he could find the bee tree, he might also get track of
the bear, since it would be difficult to divorce the animal from so
dainty a morsel, once he had found how to get at the hive.
So Tom kept up his search, all the time hoping to make a pleasing
discovery that would make his chum's eye dance, and add a pleasing
variety to their meals.
He had spent half an hour in this vain hunt when he came upon a tree
that seemed to offer possibilities; for it had a big cavity, and there
was more or less of a chance that some of its larger limbs were also
hollow. It is this kind that appears to be the favorite lodgment of the
bees after swarming from some other hive that is overcrowded; a place
where they can grow indefinitely, and lay up an increasing store with
each successive summer.
A ton of honey has sometimes been gathered from a single bee tree; much
of it too old and discolored to be of much good but showing that the
little workers never know when they have enough for their winter use.
Tom became so impressed with the possibilities of this particular tree
that he determined to climb up its trunk and investigate at close range.
Of course, in order to ascend, he was compelled to lay his rifle on the
ground, as he would surely need both hands to draw himself upward.
Perhaps at the time Tom may have remembered the strange experience of
his chum, Felix, while held unarmed in a tree, by the wounded buck; but
if so, Tom did not dream of allowing such an idea to deter him in the
least. Who could imagine any trouble springing from such an apparently
innocent amusement as climbing a tree to see if any of its limbs being
hollow might shelter a swarm of bees, with their golden brown store of
honey? And besides, a rifle is not often used to shoot such small game,
Tom remembered with a chuckle.
Once among the branches, he had little difficulty in climbing aloft; and
was soon going about his business of examining the various limbs that
seemed to promise a hope of containing the treasure house he sought.
He must have passed the hole in the trunk while climbing up the other
side, for otherwise such keen eyes as Tom Tucker possessed would surely
have noticed certain scratches calculated to arouse his suspicions.
One by one the limbs were looked over, and dismissed from the list of
possibilities, until there remained only a small opening in the main
trunk, about twenty feet above his head.
Without much hope of finding what he sought there, Tom climbed
laboriously upward to this point, just about to give over the quest; he
could not discover any signs that would indicate the presence of a
swarm; and yet, as he placed his ear to this last opening, it seemed to
him that he could catch a faint buzzing sound from within that excited
new hopes.
He examined the trunk up and down, but there was certainly no chance of
finding the anticipated hive further aloft; and if in the tree at all,
it apparently must be down further.
The cavity beside him seemed to extend some distance downward; indeed,
Tom was now of the opinion that it must connect with the larger opening
he remembered having seen when on the ground, and which had slipped his
attention when climbing. On his way back he must certainly take a look
in there; meanwhile he would like to know positively that the bees were
not snugly ensconced in the upper trunk near this minor gash; and as an
idea flashed into his mind, without a second thought he set about
carrying it into practice.
Taking a piece of oiled rag from the pocket of his khaki canvas hunting
coat, which he was wearing at the time over his sweater and vest, he
ignited it with a match, and immediately dropped this into the opening;
holding back to see whether even a solitary bee made its appearance,
since that would tell the story.
And Tom immediately became aware of the fact that there was certainly
_something_ going on inside that tree trunk. At first the boy found
himself thinking that he stirred up the biggest bees' nest ever heard
of; for from what at first seemed to be a simple buzzing, there grew a
rumbling that kept on increasing, until it was simply astounding; and
Tom hardly knew what to make of it all, as he hung there to the side of
the tree trunk, looking downward.
The next thing he saw was smoke puffing out of where he knew the big
opening lay.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, with mingled astonishment and amusement; "I did
more than I expected, I reckon, and set the old buster afire inside.
Say, she must have been as dry as tinder, to catch like that. Perhaps
it's the fire making all that racket--no it ain't, either, for I never
heard a burning tree make a noise like that. Sounds like growls, too--by
George, it _is_ growls, and I just bet you I've struck the snuggery of
Mr. Bear first pop!"
The idea was so surprising that Tom just clung there, and stared with
wide-open eyes at the opening below, from whence welled those strange
sounds; together with various little wisps of smoke that seemed to be
getting stronger as they ascended.
By and by the boy sniffed at this smoke, and as he did so he gave vent
to another exclamation as if to voice his wonder, while something like a
broad grin decorated his face.
"Burning hair, as sure as you live!" he exclaimed. "Bless me, if I don't
think the old critter must be on fire; that oiled rag lit on his back,
and took hold!"
Even as Tom gave vent to this startling opinion something appeared at
the opening below; something that speedily resolved itself into a
smouldering black bear, that looked both scared and angry as he backed
out of his den, snapping at various parts of his fat body, where the
fire had touched most severely.
If Tom had been able to restrain his loud and scornful laughter, in all
probability Bruin would have scrambled down from the tree, and ambled
off; or else rolled in the snow to cool his scorched body; but the sight
seemed so very comical that the boy burst into a shout.
He was immediately sorry for doing so.
The singed bear twisted his head when in the act of lowering himself
stern first, and caught sight of his human enemy above.
Somehow the sight of the boy seemed to completely alter the animal's
plans; and instead of showing fear, he now gave evidence of extreme
anger, just as though he might be able to figure out some connection
between the presence of that biped in his tree, and the suffering he was
even then undergoing.
He showed his teeth in a vicious growl.
"Go on down, old man!" called out Tom, waving his hand; "the walking's
fine. Besides, there's nothing for you up here. I'm not hankering for
company, I tell you. So just skip out, please--do you hear, you beggar?"
and Tom ended with a shout; for, to his consternation, the singed bear
had commenced to ascend the tree again, evidently with the intention of
trying conclusions with this enemy who had hurt him so grievously.
Tom did not exactly like the looks of things just about then.
There, he was, above the ground some forty feet, with an enraged bear
climbing in his direction, and evidently bent on mischief. It was too
great a distance to be covered in a jump, since the ground was frozen
and hard, so that a broken ankle might be the result. To ascend further
would mean that he must soon be chased to the very pinnacle of the tree,
with Bruin close after, bent on clutching him with his sharp claws, and
teaching him a lesson in politeness.
Whatever he expected to do must be started quickly, for the animal was
getting closer all the time. If he only had a good long pole; or even a
stout club, Tom believed he might poke the brute so furiously that he
would conclude to give over his attempt to close with the boy who had
laughed so heartlessly over his misfortunes, though Tom was doing so no
longer, it might be noticed.
But he might just as well wish for his rifle, lying there so temptingly
on the ground; it would be impossible to twist off a branch large
enough, and reduce it to the proper consistency in time to meet the
bear's attack.
Tom, as the bear came close, began to move out on a limb, wondering
whether the animal would really follow after him. That doubt was
speedily removed, for Bruin never so much as hesitated, though he came
with extreme caution, feeling his way, step by step, suspicious lest he
were being led into a trap.
It seemed to Tom, however, that if any one appeared to be in a trap,
that individual must be himself. With each foot that he crept out on
that bending limb, he felt that his chances for escaping those cruel
claws in an encounter with their angry owner grew less and less.
Suppose the limb should break under their combined weight, it would be a
serious thing to go tumbling down fully forty feet, in company with the
fat, hairy monster; possibly to be clasped in his embrace after landing.
Of course, if he could only be sure of alighting on Bruin when the
collision came, it would not seem so bad; but that was only one chance
in ten; and on the other hand the miserable beast might drop squarely
upon him, which would be completing the tragedy.
One thing Tom noticed was, that the further out on the limb he crawled
the more it sagged, so that he was even now close to the outcropping
branches below; and the daring thought flashed through his brain that
possibly he might suddenly let go his hold above, and by a show of
dexterity, succeed in securing a new grip as he fell!
That would be leaving Bruin in the lurch nicely; for not daring to trust
his cumbersome body to do likewise he would have to hedge back to the
trunk, an operation taking time; and then descend in the ordinary way.
Meanwhile Tom could be slipping down the balance of the tree with the
speed, that, in his boyish vernacular, he called "greased lightning,"
and when the bear arrived later on, he would find himself up against a
snag in that always dependable rifle.
There was really no other course left open to him, and hence Tom felt
bound to take the chances, such as they were.
He was naturally agile, and his muscles accustomed to hardy exercise; so
that after all, it was not such a tremendously difficult task, slipping
dextrously down the outside of that limb, and clutching hold of the next
one as he reached it.
Tom half expected to see the bear go plunging downward, as the limb,
relieved of the boy weight, must have been violently agitated; but
apparently the animal knew just how to crouch there, and hold on.
A single look upward showed Tom this, and also that the bear was already
commencing to edge cautiously backward, moving one foot gingerly at a
time, just as Tom had seen a domestic cat do when after a sparrow in a
tree.
Undoubtedly that must have been the strangest way in which Tom Tucker
ever came down a tree; just as the ascension of Felix had shattered all
records. While his movements were certainly pretty rapid, he managed to
carry himself so dextrously that, save for a number of small scratches,
mostly along his wrists that did not count for anything, he presently
reached the ground, none the worse for his remarkable experience.
By this time Bruin had succeeded in backing along the limb, and reaching
the body of the tree, down which he commenced to pass, with an eye to
business. Hence, Tom knew that he had no time to waste, if he meant to
hold the advantage that his slide had given him.
Three bounds took him over to where his rifle lay, and snatching this
weapon up, he was quickly back again at the base of the tree. After that
it was just a picnic--that is, for Tom; what the bear thought no one ever
bothered trying to find out.
The boy even felt a little compassion for the poor beast that was so
rudely disturbed in the very beginning of his long winter nap, by having
his house take fire; and upon crawling hastily forth, had the double
aggravation of finding himself laughed at by a cruel two-legged foe; and
when he sought to punish such liberties it would be to have a queer
stick poked at his head, and hear a terrible bang that ended his earthly
career.
But to tell the truth it was bear steaks that animated Tom now; for he
realized that as a piece of marketable fur that sadly singed hide of
Bruin would not pay for the trouble of taking it off.
He believed that the bear was both fat and rather young, and these
considerations outweighed any compunction he might feel, as the animal
kept coming closer to him.
Several times the bear stopped to look down at the human enemy waiting
so confidently for him below; and it would seem as though some intuition
must have warned Bruin that he could expect nothing less than trouble
from that source; but to descend seemed to be the only thing left him,
since his late den was now burning in a way that promised the complete
destruction of the tree in due time.
And so the beast again started downward, growling ferociously; but now
more in the expectation that such fierceness might frighten the hunter
away from his post, than because of a genuine desire to come into
contact with him.
However, Tom did not mean to take any unnecessary chances; he had never
fought a "singed" bear, and hence could not say just how vindictive such
an animal might turn out to be. So when Bruin was just about down Tom
thrust out his gun until the muzzle almost touched the beast's small
head, close to his ear; when he pulled trigger, and there was one less
live bear in that neck of the woods.
Later on, Tom, following the trail of the marauding bear, did manage to
discover the bee tree, and upon felling it, secured a bucket full of
good honey; though he afterwards declared that he had never before heard
of such a thing being done in the winter season.
Bruin had gotten at all he could easily reach, and had then taken up his
quarters in the near vicinity; possibly in the hope and expectation that
when spring came around, and the dormant bees awoke to new activity, he
would be on hand to start a fresh campaign, in the hope of another rich
feast.
He had not calculated upon the coming of Tom Tucker; and the discovery
of that empty comb which he must have tossed contemptuously aside after
draining its sweet store; so that its finding started the hunter on the
track that ended in Bruin's downfall.
It was with considerable pleasure that Tom set about the task of
denuding the honey thief of his singed pelt. He meant to simply keep
this as a reminder of the strange adventure that had waylaid him on his
return from the little marsh where the Northern muskrats abounded. But
the meat was the main thing after all; and none of it must go to feed
some prowling bobcat or panther.
With the assistance of his chum Tom managed to get every pound worth
saving to the cabin, and that which could not be immediately used was
frozen in a secure spot, from which it could not be stolen. Whenever
their stock became low, all that was necessary, was to go out with the
axe, and chop a few pounds off, as though it were fuel for the fire.
That account also went down in the log of Felix; for it gave him even
more amusement than his own story of the buck that had tossed him into
the tree; he often wished he had a picture of Tom in that tree, with the
bear reaching out for him; and the boy finally sliding down the outside
branches with desperate haste.
When Tom brought in that pail of wild honey, and declared they could
really get all they wanted during their stay in the mountains, Felix
fairly danced with glee. It just seemed to fill a long-felt want; and
how delicious it did taste upon the next lot of flapjacks, which, of
course, had to follow at the succeeding meal.
They ate so heartily, Tom declared that if this kept on, the larder
would be cleaned out before half the time they had set for their stay in
the camp were exhausted. But to all this kind of talk Felix turned a
deaf ear; for when such a magnificent appetite had come to him, building
up his energies splendidly, it just _had_ to be catered to, regardless,
even though the two big Crow boys were hired to make the long trip to
civilization on snow-shoes, perhaps, and "tote" back a fresh supply of
stuff on a sledge.
One can accomplish almost anything when the pocketbook is well lined,
especially with where substantials in the woods are concerned; and those
hardy Indian lads would think little of such a trip through the snow of
the valleys; indeed, it must seem something along the order of a picnic
for them, since doubtless they had more than once done the same thing,
without the inducement of a fat reward, such as Felix would be sure to
promise them.
It seemed as though adventures were flocking their way thick and fast;
and the boys could not help wondering what the nature of the next one
would be like, as they sat in their cozy dugout at night time, and took
their ease before a roaring fire that made things look so cheery.
All this while Felix had not forgotten the two principal things he had
in mind when laying out this trip to the Rocky Mountain region.
A grizzly was the height of his ambition, and unless he could manage to
get such a prize to his credit, all alone and unaided, he would feel
very much disappointed indeed. And then there was that bighorn
business--he had heard so much about these strange sheep of the rocky
heights that he often expressed a wish to try and secure such a splendid
trophy. Could he see a pair of those curved horns decorating his den at
home, the boy felt that it would please him more than words could tell.
And Tom, understanding what all this eagerness meant to his comrade, was
making preparations looking to a start along those lines; he had his eye
out for signs of the monster that had passed near the cabin on the first
night of their occupancy, and whose den he believed must be among the
rocky canyons of the mountains, not half a mile away from the edge of
the valley where the dugout lay.