"Because I saw the bees," he replied, in confident tones.
"Why, Frank," said Robert, laughing, "the bees you saw may have their hives miles and miles away."
"No, they have not," Frank stoutly maintained. "I have seen them going and coming out of their own hole just as they do at home."
"That sounds very much as if Frank is right, after all," argued Harold; "let us go and see for ourselves. But how came you to find the tree, Frank?"
"While I was eating my orange," he replied, "a bee lit on my hand, and began to suck the juice there. I was not afraid of him, for I knew that he would not sting me if I did not hurt him; and more than that, I always love to look at bees. Well, he sucked till he had got juice enough, then he flew right up into a tree a little way off, and went into a hole. While I was looking at that hole, I saw many other bees going in or coming out; and then I knew that it was a bee-tree, because I had heard Riley talk about them at Bellevue. And, Cousin Harold, did you not put up some brimstone for taking bee-trees?"
"That I did, my dear little cousin," answered Harold, pleased with this unexpected allusion. "I have no doubt, from what you say, that you have found a real bee-tree; and, in that case, you have beat us all. Take us to see it."
They all went in joyous mood, and sure enough there was a good sized tree, with a knot-hole about twenty feet above ground, with plenty of bees passing in and out of it. The smell, too, of honey was decidedly strong, showing that the hive was old and plentifully stored.
It may be as well to state here, as elsewhere, that before many days the tree was felled, and that it supplied them with such an abundance of honey that a portion of it was, at Harold's suggestion, stowed away in skin bags, hair side outward. Some of it was beautifully white and clear. This was kept in the comb. The remainder was strained, and the wax was moulded into large cakes for future use. The bees, poor creatures! were all suffocated with the fumes of burning sulphur thrown into the hollow of the tree before it was opened. A few recovered, and for days hovered around their ruined home, until finally they all perished. It made Frank's kind heart very sad to see them, and several times he was stung while watching their movements and trying to help them.
After spending a delightful day, they returned about sunset to the tent. Sam's white teeth glistened when they approached the door. It had been a lonely day with him, but their return compensated for his solitude.
From this time forth the boys had before their minds a fixed object to be accomplished--the felling of those trees, and converting them into boats. But what should be the plan of their procedure while engaged in the work? They could go every morning, and return every evening--a distance altogether of eight miles; or they could spend several nights in succession at the prairie, leaving Frank and Mary with Sam; or they could remove everything to the place of their labour. As to the first two of these plans, it was so manifestly improper to leave the two younger ones for hours and days together, in a wild country, infested with wild beasts, and unprotected, except by a lame, bedridden negro, who was unable to protect himself, that they did not entertain them for a moment. It was finally resolved to delay their regular operations until the next week, by which time they hoped to be able, partly by water and partly by land, to transport everything, and take up their permanent abode at the prairie.