"I know!" declared Chatz, suddenly; "in prowling around that haunted house I saw several old stone jars in what was once used as a pantry. Let's go over and lug the same to camp, Lil Artha. They can be washed out clean, and will hold all that honey, I assure you, suh. And we can carry most of the same back home with us to show other scouts what we've been doing up here in the woods."
So the pair hastened away, and after a while came back with the stone crocks or jars, each of which would hold several gallons. Elmer pronounced them the finest possible thing for holding their rich find, and proceeded to cleanse them thoroughly at the spring, after which the various cooking receptacles were emptied, and both Chatz and Lil Artha started eagerly back to the fountainhead for a fresh supply.
They certainly cleaned out the best part of that tree hive during the next hour, and had four jars full of splendid honey, some of it as clear as crystal. It was the greatest "harvest home" the Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts had ever experienced; and they seemed never to get quite enough of the sweet stuff, for every one kept tasting as new supplies were disclosed by splitting the tree further.
Finally, however, it came to an end, and the distracted bees were let alone with the sad wreck of their once fine hive. Perhaps, if they survived the chill of the coming night, some of them would start in fresh, and carry away enough of the discolored honey, refused by the discriminating scouts, to start a new hive, and keep the swarm alive during the winter.
Nobody seemed furiously hungry as the afternoon waned and the shades of night began to gather around the camp. This was hardly to be wondered at, however, since they had tasted so much honey for hours that it took away their customary zest for ordinary food. Elmer told them it was a bad thing, and every fellow promised that from that time on he would take his sweet stuff in moderation.
Of course they cooked some dinner; and after once getting a taste of the fried onions and potatoes it seemed that to some degree their fickle appetites did return, so that the food vanished in the end.
"I'm thinking about all that darker honey we left there," Lil Artha was saying, as they sat around the crackling fire long after night had fallen, and supper had been disposed of an hour or more.
"My starth!" ejaculated Ted, "I hope now you don't want to lay in any more of the thweet thtuff, do you, Lil Artha? Why, we'll be thticky all over with it. Don't be a hog. Leave thome to the poor little beeth; and it didn't look real nice, you know."
"Oh! I wasn't regretting that we couldn't make a clean sweep," explained the tall scout, whose face was once more gradually resuming its normal appearance; "but if what I've read is true, up in some places where they have black bears, they always set a watch when they've cut down a bee tree. You see, the smell of the honey is in the air, and if there's a bruin inside of five miles he'll be visiting that broken tree hive before morning, when the watcher can send a bullet into him."
"But you don't think there are bears around here, do you?" asked George, always to be found on the side of the opposition.