"Ou—ouch!" howled Chunky. "I'm stung! I'm stung!"
"That's good," cried the guide. "There he is!"
"Good? Good?" moaned the fat boy, dancing about holding his nose, the part that had been touched by the stinger of a bee.
"I meant the bee, not the sting," hastily explained the guide.
"There are more of them," called Tad. "My, they're all here, aren't they?"
"Watch them, boys. We must find out what direction they take after they leave here."
"There goes one to the left," cried Ned.
Cale started on a run. He halted a few paces from the tree.
"Spread out over the place. If any of you sees a bee, call to me. They don't live far from here. I can tell by the way they act. Here come more of them."
The guide appeared to have the eyes of a hawk. He could see a bee where the others were able to discover nothing at all. Cale followed the trail like a hound, except that his nose and eyes were in the air instead of on the ground.