"And our chums took the camp ax away with them?" suggested Toby, looking up, an eager glow commencing to show in his eyes.
"Yes, and they went off in that direction, too," added George.
With that the four camp keepers smiled at each other.
"Can it be possible they've found a bee-tree, after all?" asked George, who, despite his yearning for a honeycomb, could not overcome his skeptical disposition, and believe that such a delightful consummation of the bee hunt had come about.
"Listen to that whanging, will you?" cried Toby; "nobody but Lil Artha could use an ax like that. As sure as you live they must have struck something. Tell me about the babes in the woods, will you; some people wade in good luck every time they start out!"
"Another fellow has taken hold, because the sound changes," George observed, sagaciously; "and p'raps Ty Collins is swinging the ax now. He can hew close to the line; fact is, I never saw a scout who could chop as evenly as Ty. Wow! did you hear that crash, fellows? A tree went down that time, whether there's any honey in the same or not. I'll only believe it when I see, smell and taste the nectar."
A short time afterwards they heard some one coming on the run. Then a figure broke out of the brush, waving excitedly.
"Hi! get your buckets, and come along to help gather the harvest!" Lil Artha was shouting as he approached, half out of breath.
"Then you sure enough did find a bee-tree, and it isn't any joke?" demanded the incredulous George.
"Take a look at me, and then say if I show up like a joke!" demanded the long-legged scout, indignantly.