Bumpus thrilled now with new pride. He fully believed that in this tall tree of the Maine woods he had actually located a bee hive that would assure them all the clarified sweetness they could carry away.
And when he had made as sure of this as he could, Bumpus put his trembling hands to his mouth, and sent out in his loudest tones the call agreed upon to tell the others that he, Bumpus, had after all been the one to succeed.
CHAPTER XVI.
A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE, WELL EARNED.
“A false alarm, boys!” sang out the envious Giraffe, as they all came hurrying up to the spot where Bumpus was dancing about excitedly, with a wide grin on his rosy fat face.
“It is, hey?” declared the discoverer, indignantly; “well, you just wait and see what Allan here says. There’s the tree it’s in; and if you put on your specs, Giraffe, p’raps even you c’n see the swarm buzzin’ around up yonder.”
“He’s right, boys,” declared Allan, quickly; “even before I look I can hear the noise that tells the truth. We’ve found our bee tree; and the honor goes after all to our chum, Bumpus.”
“Hurrah for Bumpus!” exclaimed Step Hen, pounding the fat scout on the back, after the custom of boys in general.
They were all soon able to locate the buzzing sound, and gaped up with growing eagerness at the place where the swarm was in motion.
“Looks like a big hive, too,” ventured Giraffe.
“You never can tell,” Allan declared; “but from the signs I wouldn’t be surprised if it was an old one, and just stocked to the doors with honey.”