They dropped down the current for fifty feet, then ran the boat ashore in the mud, and crept inland through the palmetto and fern, heading for the voices that came through the thickets. As they went on the ground grew drier, densely grown up with small gum- and bay-trees; and they crawled the last twenty feet through a jungle of sharp-edged palmetto, and came in sight of the stolen raft.
There it lay, the raft they had worked upon so hard. It was apparently intact, and the close rows of beehives still stood upon it, with the honey-extractor, the box of tools, and the camp-kit. There was a great roaring of bees in the air, and immediately the white boys as well as Sam smelt both smoke and beeswax.
The raft was moored by a rope to a great splintered pine-stump. There was a strong current running in that bayou; the rope was stretched taut, and the raft swung and swayed slightly on the water. The rowboat of the robbers was drawn up on the shore, and, as Joe took in the scene, he espied with astonishment the houseboat—the identical black houseboat that he had boarded before, snugly stowed and moored in the creek a few yards farther up. Evidently this nook was one of the regular resorts of the river-men.
He nudged his cousin and pointed it out. But they had little attention to spare for the boat. What was going on beside the water was of much more interest at the moment.
The pirates were hardly ten yards away, laughing and talking, hard at work. Their guns all lay together in their rowboat. Evidently they anticipated no interruption, and they seemed in great spirits. Three or four dismantled beehives lay about the shore, but for a few minutes the boys could not grasp what the thieves were about.
Then Candler and the third man stepped aboard the raft and gingerly picked up a hive. Blue Bob from the shore jeered at them for their caution. They dropped it quickly into the water, held it under with a pole for a minute or two, then drew it ashore. Pulling cover, super and bottom apart, they knocked out the wet mass of half-drowned bees, shook out the combs, and proceeded to cut out the wax.
Bob gave a convulsive gasp as he realized the destruction that was going on.
“They’re killing them! They’re breaking them up!” he exclaimed incautiously; but Joe’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
The pirates had heard nothing. At a little distance stood the big iron kettle that had been used for rosin, and as they cut out the combs they tossed them into it. A small fire burned around its edges, melting the wax. Where there was any honey in the combs they cut it out and laid it aside, but the Harmans had not left much honey from the last extracting.
“We’ve done bust up four of these here gums,” they heard Candler say grumblingly, “an’ we ain’t got as much honey as I’ve seen cut outer one bee-tree. This ain’t goin’ ter pay us for the rosin them young Yankees stole.”