Even Giraffe forgot his late unpleasantness as he again advanced nearer the spot where the stores of scattered sweetness lay.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE COMING OF THE HAIRY HONEY THIEF.
It did not take long for the honey gatherers to fill every receptacle they had brought along with them. Bumpus was once more feeling a little like himself, though Step Hen did take occasion to warn him against showing his pride over being the one to find the bee tree.
“Honors are about even, I guess, Bumpus,” he would remark, with stinging emphasis; “you found the bees, and they found you, all right, looks like. And you’re swelled up enough now without letting yourself puff out any more. We all admit that you’re a wonder, and that you’ve sure got an eye for bee trees; just as Giraffe here is crazy about the stuff. Look at him now, would you, munching at that comb just like it was a slice of bread and jam.”
“Yum! yum!” remarked the person in question, whose face was smeared almost up to his ears with the sticky stuff; “ain’t had such a delicious feed since I sneaked into the preserve closet at home when a kid, and the spring lock caught. I knew I’d be in for a tannin’ and was bound to get the worth of it first, so I just ate and ate, tryin’ to sample every kind there was. It made me sick though, which was worse than the strappin’ my dad gave me. But this is the finest ever, barring none. Yum! yum! and more to follow, too.”
“Well, if I was like that, I’d just camp out alongside this old nest, till I’d scraped it clean, if it took all winter,” declared Step Hen; who did not happen to care particularly for sweet things, and therefore felt no sympathy for the other pair of scouts.
Bumpus had also tasted his find, and pronounced it prime. They could hardly coax Giraffe away from the fallen bee tree; and in securing a last comb of the lovely clear honey, he managed to get a few more stings that rather added to his ridiculous appearance. Step Hen nearly took a fit every time he looked at that pair, nor could Allan blame him; for they certainly were a sight calculated to make any one forget all his own troubles.
The afternoon wore away, and those who remained in camp talked over the next thing which was on the programme. This was nothing more nor less than making an effort to bag a bear; and of course Giraffe was particularly interested, because of the boast he had made in Cranford that he did not mean to return home until he had, alone and unaided, shot a black bear.
“There was sure enough smell of honey in the air around that old bee tree to set a bear crazy for a taste, if he ever got wind of the treat,” declared Allan, when Giraffe asked him for the fifth time about the chances they had of meeting with Bruin.
“Mebbe he’s over there now, fillin’ up?” suggested Bumpus, who was not very much interested, because he could not be coaxed to go all the way back to where they had secured their store of sweets, even though sure of seeing a bear diving into the honey tree, and stowing away great quantities of the sticky stuff.