“If you go after that honey, you had best tie some netting over your faces,” said Harmony; and Mrs. Parsons said the same.
The tree was located nearly a mile from the cabin, and the start was made from home just as the sun was rising. Each of the young pioneers carried his gun, and also a torch, thick with pitch pine, and the netting already mentioned.
For some distance their walk took them along the watercourse where they had brought down the deer, but presently they turned to the left, and plunged into a thicket where the trees grew tall and straight, and where the brushwood was of small account.
Boys less accustomed to the wilderness would have become hopelessly lost in that thicket, but Joe and Harry advanced with the utmost confidence, for their many outings had made them thoroughly acquainted with this bit of territory.
“Do you know, I really think the game is beginning to thin out here,” remarked Harry, as they trudged along. “I haven’t seen even a rabbit so far.”
“Well, that is not to be wondered at, Harry—with so many of the settlers out after the game almost every day.”
“It would be a great pity if the game should give out altogether.”
“Oh, that won’t happen for a good many years. As the game grows more scarce, the old hunters will drift elsewhere for shots, and that will give the game here a chance to catch up again.”
At last they came in sight of the bee tree, standing in a little clearing by itself. The tree was not as tall as those around it for which they were thankful. It was hollow, and near the top flew a few bees, basking idly in the sunshine.
“Their work for the season is over,” remarked Harry.