A few bees were now coming back, and again they had a fight, that lasted the best part of an hour. But then the bees went off, and that was the last they saw of them.
To get the honey home safely the boys cut a number of withes, and of these formed a fairly good basket, weaving the affair after the manner of some Indians they had watched at work on more than one occasion. This basket was placed on a broad drag, and into it they put the honey. Some honey, from the broken combs, was lost, but this could not be helped.
“We should have brought a big kettle,” said Joe. “Next time we will be wiser.”
“The trouble is, honey-bees are not located every day, Joe. We may not see another for years.”
Their success at honey gathering made them light of heart, and both whistled merrily as they hurried back to the cabin. They reached home shortly after noon, and a shout brought Mrs. Parsons and the girls out in a hurry to meet them.
“Oh, but this is splendid!” cried Cora. “We’ll have honey all winter!”
“’Tis truly good,” came from Mrs. Parsons. “But there is more here than we need. We can trade some with the neighbors for other things;” and this was, later on, done.
With the coming of cold weather rabbit hunting became extra good, and the boys would often go out in the early morning and bring in enough for a stew or a pot-pie. Each was now a skillful marksman, and it was rarely that a shot was wasted. Often they would bring in some other small animal, as well as partridge and wild turkeys.
During the autumn the inhabitants of Boonesborough organized an expedition to search the woods around the fort for some signs of the Indians. But, though many miles of territory were covered, no red men were brought to view, and it was at last concluded that the Indians had withdrawn to their winter quarters miles and miles away.
“It’s a good work done if they have,” said Harmony, when she heard the news. “I declare I never want to see another Indian as long as I live.”