Jim declared he could lead them straight to the fallen bee tree, and Allan seemed to put full confidence in the guide. So they set forth.
Sebattis, Step Hen and Bumpus was left behind, to guard the camp and the canoes.
Perhaps it would seem a long way to Giraffe, for he had gone through considerable since daybreak. And those bee stings must have robbed him of more or less energy. But the prospect of big game buoyed up his spirits, and he trudged along with the other two, changing his heavy gun occasionally from one shoulder to the other, in order to rest himself.
“Smells pretty strong of honey, I must say,” he muttered, after they had been moving quite some time.
This was doubtless intended to be put out as a “feeler;” and it worked well too, for Allan immediately remarked:
“Nearly there, Giraffe; a few minutes more, and you’ll see the tree we cut down.”
“D’ye think he c’n be there?” whispered the long scout, nervously fingering the lock of his rifle, as he peered ahead into the gloom of the night, possibly seeing a bear rearing up on his hind legs, every time he caught sight of a dim tree before him.
“Jim says no, he hasn’t come yet,” replied Allan, also allowing his voice to sink; for although they were coming up to windward of the bee tree, it was better to be doubly cautious.
Presently they arrived on the spot, and found all quiet. Bruin had evidently not reached the scene, though both Jim and Allan were just as positive as ever that the old fellow would be along before a great while.
So Jim selected the place where they would lie in wait. It was close enough to the broken bee hive to afford Giraffe a splendid chance for a shot. Allan had made sure to fetch along the little electric hand torch belonging to Thad. This he meant to manipulate himself, and believed it would be all that was necessary to catch the attention of the honey-eating bear, and hold him in surprise until Giraffe could take aim, and pull trigger.