  For a while neither Father Thrift nor the bear spoke. Then the queer little old man said: “Those boys must be punished, Shaggy. They must be taught a lesson. Killing birds is no joke. “To-morrow morning take your lunch with you and go to the north edge of the forest. There you will find a crooked road that is little traveled. “I believe that this is the road over which the boys came. They will come again. “Hide yourself behind a tree and watch for them. And when you catch them bring them to me.” “Yes, yes,” said Shaggy, “I certainly will.” So early the next morning Father Thrift packed the bear’s lunch and off Shaggy started for the north edge of the forest. But he returned late that night, tired and cross, without the boys. The same thing happened the next day, and the next. Shaggy was so discouraged by this time that he thought it of no use to try again. But Father Thrift said: “Go just this once more. And if you do not have better luck to-day you need not go again.” So Shaggy went for the fourth time. And, as it happened, he did have better luck. When he reached the edge of the forest he seated himself beside a large tree near the road, to watch. But the kind breeze was blowing so softly that he soon fell asleep. And as he slept he dreamed a dream—a very strange sort of dream. He dreamed he was the king of Honeybee Land. All of his subjects were honeybees, and there were exactly one million of them. In another month there would be half a million more of them. If he had so much honey now, think how much more he would have when the other half million honeybees started to gather it! Now all that he had to do was to eat the honey as fast as the honeybees made it. That seemed easy enough. Um-m, how he loved that honey! But soon he found out that bees are very busy and very thrifty little things. Oh, how very, very busy they kept him trying to eat all the honey they made! Each day his stomach was getting larger and larger. How much farther could it stretch? Then, “Whizz!” he woke up with a start. “I thought so! I thought so!” he said to But, no, his stomach hadn’t exploded at all. He could feel that. Besides, there was an arrow lying right Just then he happened to remember where he was. “The boys!” he said to himself. “The boys! In mischief, with a bow and arrows.” He looked around. And there they were, sitting under a tree not a hundred feet away from him! He could see a bow and arrows on the ground beside them. But what were they doing? They were holding something in their hands. First they would look at it, then they would blow on it. Then they would look again and blow again. The bear crept closer. Everything was clear to him now! The boys had killed a bird and they were trying to find the spot where the arrow had struck it. So interested were they in this that they did not notice the bear stealing up behind them. When he got right over them he gave a dreadful growl: “Gr-r-r-r!” It was very loud and very fierce. “Why did you kill that bird?” he asked. “I have a good mind to eat you alive.” And he gave another fierce growl. The boys acted like frightened rabbits. They were too astonished to speak. The bear picked up the bow and arrows. “One, attention!” he commanded. “Two, get ready! Three, go!” The boys took to the path which led toward their homes. But the bear called them back. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Now, go the other way. To-night you must report to Father Thrift. Gr-r-r-r! And not another word.” This last command must have been a bear joke, for the boys had not uttered a word. Then away they all started—the boys as Shaggy’s prisoners—for the cave in the forest. |
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