When they had studied the odd little rodent thoroughly, Ben released it, expecting it would run up the side of a near-by tree. Instead, thoroughly frightened, it turned and ran up the nearest object, which happened to be Ben’s left trouser-leg.
The boys rolled over the ground in spasms of laughter, while the guide hopped about endeavoring to shake the squirrel down. After great exertion he finally succeeded, and the panic-stricken little creature ran up the trunk of a convenient pine and hid itself among the branches.
After supper Ben entertained the boys by telling several hunting stories. When he had finished the last one, he declared it bed-time; knocking the ashes from his pipe, he rose and went outside to consult the sky for weather predictions.
“Going to be a fine day to-morrow. Guess we’ll line bees and get some honey for the winter,” he said, when he came in.
“How do you do that?” asked the lads.
“I’ll show you in the morning. It’s time to turn in, now.” And he motioned them to the bunk.
“What did he say about bees?” whispered Ed, when he and George were beneath the blankets.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet it’s going to be sport,” George replied, sleepily.