The late afternoon sun shone warmly on a little clearing some two miles from Woodcraft. It flooded with soft golden light the scar on the face of the great forest which nature, ever abhorrent of the ugly, was trying to mask under a riot of fireweed and early goldenrod. Blackened stumps were half hidden under tangled canes of the red raspberry. In the more open places low bush blueberries carpeted the ground. At the upper end of the clearing two boys squatted beside the charred stump of a great pine.

“There he comes, Billy. Line’s started again,” whispered one.

“’Tain’t a he, it’s a she,” replied Billy disgustedly. “Don’t you know that all worker bees are females? Males don’t make no honey; they’re the drones.” Billy was strong on facts, if weak on grammar. “There comes another and another right behind. They’re making a mighty short flight. We must be pretty close to the tree. Gee, Spud, I bet the eyes of some of the fellers will stick out when they see us luggin’ in a barrel of honey!”

“Ain’t got it yet,” replied Spud sententiously. “That tree is sure out of bounds, too. What we goin’ to do about that?”

“Go on,” said Billy decidedly. “’Tain’t far out, and I reckon the big chief won’t say nothin’ when he sees that honey. Gee, but this will score some for the Delawares!”

The two boys were Billy Buxby and Spud Ely. Billy had been responsible for what he called the “big idea,” which was to line out a bee tree, and Spud had closed with it at once. With all his happy-go-lucky carelessness Billy was well versed in outdoor life and by his powers of observation was continually surprising even those who knew him best. Had he been less fun-loving and careless he might easily have been one of the trusted leaders among the younger boys of the camp. But Billy’s impulsiveness was apt to lead him into situations bordering on the reckless. He was always dreaming of doing big things and inclined to act on the inspiration of the moment, heedless of consequences. It is doubtful if another boy in camp had noticed that there were honey-bees working among the wild flowers. Billy had kept his discovery to himself until he had perfected a plan whereby to win laurels for himself and score for the Delawares. It would not have been Billy, however, not to have dropped mysterious hints of the great coup in woodcraft which he was about to pull off, and, as he was never taken seriously, it was soon dubbed “Buxby’s buncombe” and became a standing joke.

Billy stood for all the good-natured chaff of his companions without a protest. In fact he rather encouraged it that his final triumph might appear the greater. He went about with an air of secrecy, and for one whole day was engaged in making a mysterious something of which he would allow no one a glimpse. This was nothing more or less than a bee box, made after a plan once shown him by an old bee hunter from whom Billy had learned many tricks in the gentle art of “lining” bees.

The box was a very simple affair, but admirably adapted to its purpose. It was made from an old cigar box and was perhaps three inches square by three and one-half deep. Half-way down on one side Billy made a slit just wide enough to admit a piece of ordinary window glass cut to fit. Inside he tacked two little strips or guides on which the glass rested. When the glass slide was in place it divided the box into an upper and lower chamber. The cover had a half-inch hole in the middle with a piece of glass fastened over it on the inside. The whole thing was crude, but in a secret test Billy found that it answered his purpose fully. It was then that he took Spud Ely into his confidence and it was arranged that on the following afternoon they would give Billy’s plan a try-out.

Preserving the utmost secrecy the two boys sought the old clearing, where Billy had previously assured himself that the bees were also at work. In the lower compartment he put a piece of bread on which he poured a liberal amount of syrup, a two-ounce bottle of which he had begged from the cook. Then he slipped the glass slide in place and was ready for business.

It was not long before his experienced eyes singled out a honey-bee at work on a spray of goldenrod on the edge of the clearing. Approaching softly with the box in one hand and the cover in the other he held the box just beneath the busy little insect and gently brushed her into it with the cover, immediately clapping this in place.

“Gee, that was easy!” exclaimed the admiring Spud, who entertained a wholesome respect for all insects with stings.

“Pooh, that’s nothin’! I’ve seen fellers pick ’em right up in their fingers. If you ain’t afraid of bees they won’t bother you none. They know when people are afraid of ’em and when they ain’t,” replied Billy.

The bee buzzed about angrily for a few minutes, but in her darkened prison presently quieted down, the boys taking turns at peeping at her through the glass in the cover. When she had taken to a quiet examination of her narrow quarters Billy very gently pulled out the glass slide. It did not take her long to discover the syrup and, forgetful of everything but the unexpected store of sweets, she was soon busy “loadin’ up,” as Billy expressed it. Carefully he lifted the box and placed it on a convenient stump, then removed the cover. Presently, loaded with all she could carry, the bee took wing. Rising heavily she circled overhead once or twice to get her bearings, then shot away in a straight line across the clearing.

“Now what do we do, chase along after her?” asked Spud.

“Naw, wait for her to come back, you numskull,” replied Billy. “And while we’re waiting let’s catch another.”

This was soon done, and the second bee was liberated as the first had been. To the surprise of the boys this one took a direction at right angles to the course of the first.

“Great snakes!” exclaimed Billy excitedly. “These woods are full of bee trees!”

Spud glanced at the box and just then a bee disappeared within. “Another bee has found the syrup! I just saw it go in!” he exclaimed, becoming more and more excited.

“’Tain’t another one; it’s the first one come back, just like I told you she would.” Billy peeped into the box. “I thought so,” he added; “she’s brought another bee with her. When they go back they’ll bring some more till the whole darn hive knows just where this little old box is.”

It was even as Billy said. Presently the bees were clustering thick around the box and were continually arriving and departing, forming a double line straight to the hive in the hollow heart of some forest giant beyond the clearing. In the meantime the second bee had carried the good news home and rallied a force of workers, so that soon two lines were established.

“What will we do, split up and you follow one line while I follow the other?” asked Spud.

“How do you expect to follow the line if you ain’t got the box? Think a bee’s goin’ to take you by the hand and lead you?” asked Billy sarcastically, forgetful that this was a wholly new experience to Spud. “We’ll stick together and work out the first line, and then if we have time we’ll try the other.”

He drew out his knife and blazed the stump on which the bee box sat. Then squatting down he carefully sighted along the second line of bees and cut a rough arrow with the point indicating the exact line of flight. “Now,” said he, “we can come back any old time and run down that line.”

He next sighted along the line they proposed to follow out first till his eye encountered a slender young spruce on the far side of the clearing. With this for a marker he slipped the cover on the box while several bees were within, and taking it with him walked straight to the tree he had sighted. On the nearest stump he placed the box and removed the cover. At once several laden bees reËstablished their bearings and started for home. It was the quick return of one of these which had drawn from Spud the exclamation exposing his ignorance of the sex of working bees.

The northern edge of the clearing marked “bounds” in that direction for the camp, and only by special permission might the boys go beyond. Spud, less reckless than Billy, or at all events less certain that even a “barrel” of honey would buy Dr. Merriam’s pardon for deliberate infraction of the rules, hesitated.

“Let’s give it up now, and run the line out to-morrow,” he suggested. “We can tell the big chief and get his permission to go out of bounds.”

Billy balked. “Oh, you quitter!” he growled. “Look at that line runnin’ now and you talkin’ about givin’ it up! Say, Spud, I picked you to come in on this with me ’cause I thought you had some sand. You can go on back, but I’m goin’ to find that tree! It can’t be more’n a little ways in anyway, the bees are making such a short flight. Anyhow, who’s going to know if we do go out of bounds? We can find the tree and then to-morrow ask permission to go out of bounds. Then we can open up the tree and get the honey.”

The excitement of the hunt led Spud to lend an all too willing ear to Billy’s argument. “All right,” he growled, “I’m with you, but let’s hurry up and get back.”

Imprisoning some bees as before they once more moved forward and after a short advance into the woods stopped to reËstablish the line. This time the bees were back so quickly that Billy knew that the tree was close by, but the trees were so thick that it was difficult to watch the bees and the amateur hunter was afraid that by continuing to advance along the line they might pass the tree without seeing it.

He therefore stationed Spud by the box and himself went forward along the line of flight as far as Spud could see him, where he blazed a tree. Returning he took the bee box with some captives and started off at right angles. At about one hundred and fifty yards he stopped, set his captives free and soon had a line started from that point.

The locating of the tree was now simply a matter of each boy moving forward along his line and where the two lines intersected the tree would be found. They met at the foot of a huge pine. Some fifty feet from the ground was a long gray strip from which the bark had fallen away, denoting dead wood and a probable hollow. Studying this carefully they finally made out a hole just beneath the stub of a dead branch, and circling near this some tiny specks which Billy promptly pronounced bees.

“We’ve got it!” he whooped joyously. “We’ve got it! Who says there isn’t some class to us as scouts?” “Bet that hollow comes half-way down the tree. Must be a ton of honey in it,” said Spud examining the tree critically. “What you goin’ to do, Billy?”

“Goin’ up to have a look at it,” said Billy, taking off his coat.

“Aw, quit your kiddin’; you can’t climb that!” replied Spud.

Billy pointed to a young spruce growing close to it. “I can climb that, though,” said he, suiting the action to the word.

“Well, hurry up,” growled Spud. “It’s gettin’ darker’n blazes, and we’ll be in a pretty pickle if we don’t get out of here mighty quick.”

In the excitement the boys had lost all track of time and the shadows had begun to steal upon them unawares. Up above it was still bright, but in the hollows it was already dusk.

Billy had reached a point where he could see the entrance clearly. A few belated stragglers were hurrying home with the last of the day’s spoils. Extending down from the entrance was a crack which widened slightly just opposite Billy’s position, and through it he got a glimpse of weather-stained comb. The temptation was too great to be resisted. Working out on a branch of the spruce he managed to reach over to the tree and with his knife split off a sliver on one side of the crack. Then things happened.

Spud, impatiently waiting below, was startled by a wild yell. He looked up to see Billy descending at a rate that at first led him to think that the boy had lost his balance and was falling. In fact he was literally dropping from branch to branch. How he did it he never could tell. The last twenty feet he dropped clear, landing with a thump that for a minute knocked all the wind out of him.

Spud, genuinely concerned, hastened over to him and then for the first time realized what had happened. Billy had not come down alone. A sharp pain beneath one eye admonished Spud of the fact, and another on his chin drove the fact home. Yes, Billy had company, and the company was fighting mad.

Spud reached for Billy’s jacket and wildly fought the enemy, while Billy scrambled to his feet. Then, heedless of direction, they fled, their one thought to get as far as possible from the wrath which was being visited upon them. Crashing through the underbrush, falling over mouldering logs, barking their shins, bumping into trees in the fast gathering dusk, they ran till breath gave out.

The pursuit had been short, for the approach of night dampened the ardor of the avenging insects, and the hive had quieted down long before the boys stopped running. When finally they did stop and were convinced that they had nothing more to fear from the hot-tempered little fighters, they sat down to take account of injuries. Billy had been stung in half a dozen places on the face, four places on his hands and three on his legs. Spud had fared better, having but half a dozen in all, the most painful being the one beneath the eye, which was already puffed and swelling rapidly. Billy was considerably bruised from his fall from the tree, and Spud had scraped the skin from one shin.

Spud’s concern for Billy, excited by the latter’s fall, had given place to righteous wrath. “A pretty bee hunter you are!” he sputtered. “What in blazes was you trying to do anyway? I’ve a good mind to punch your head for getting me into this mess.”

He advanced threateningly. Then Billy’s pathetic appearance, with his bruised and swollen face, cooled his wrath as suddenly as it had blazed up.

“I guess you’ve got yours all right, all right, and don’t need nothin’ more,” he muttered. “Now let’s get out of here. This blamed eye of mine will be closed tight pretty quick. Gee, how those little duffers can sting!”

Billy had “got his.” There was no doubt about that. The stings were paining him acutely and he was stiff and sore from his bruises. But underneath his happy-go-lucky, careless disposition was the stuff from which true manhood is built. It showed now.

“Spud,” he said slowly, “it’s my fault all the way through. It’s my fault that we came out of bounds, and it’s all my fault that we got stung. I’m sorry, and when we get back to camp I’m going straight to the big chief and tell him that I’m to blame.”

“’Tain’t your fault no more’n mine,” growled Spud. “Come, get a move on. Which way do we go?”

Billy looked up startled, to see the same look reflected in Spud’s face. For the first time the boys realized that in their mad flight they had given no thought to direction. Neither had the remotest idea of where the camp lay or even the direction of the bee tree. And for the first time they had become aware of how dark it had grown.

“Billy, we’re lost!” whispered Spud, a look of panic in his face.