Alice put on a short skirt, a jersey, and a tam-o’Shanter, and took the shotgun, for which Carl carried half a dozen buckshot shells in his pocket. He carried Bob’s rifle himself, and they took a lunch with them, for if the vigil lasted all night, they would be decidedly exhausted before daylight. Bob jeered mildly at the whole proceeding, and after watching them off went immediately to bed.
It was a long tramp through the twilight to the lake apiary, and it was almost dark when they arrived. A faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air from Bob’s smudges, and from the hives arose a dull, uneasy roar. Honey had been won and lost that day, but by no honest means, and all the bees were still suspicious and restless. By morning the fighting would probably recommence.
There was a very faint air blowing from south to north, and Carl and Alice ambushed themselves on the leeward side of the yard. The ground rose slightly there, so that they had a good view of the whole apiary. Clumps of small cedars grew all around them, and a big fallen log in front made an excellent breastwork.
They placed their weapons across the log and sat down, glad of the rest. The evening air was cool, almost frosty, and the wilderness was very still. They barely dared converse, even in the faintest whispers.
For an hour or so they were both on tenterhooks of expectation, but as time passed this wore off, and they began to feel weary and drowsy. Carl would have found more difficulty in keeping awake, only that from time to time his ears caught some rustle or crackle in the underbrush that set him thrilling with excitement. But nothing ever appeared in the bee-yard, where the roaring had gradually quieted.
At last the sky lightened over in the east, and the moon gradually appeared between the trees. It was almost full, and the forest changed marvelously into deep black and pale silver. Voices began to be heard from the wilderness as if this were the dawning of the forest day.
The long trail of a swimming muskrat crossed the surface of the lake. A raccoon cried plaintively behind them, and away at the other end of the water they heard the uncanny, cackling laugh of a loon. There were strange murmurings and stirrings everywhere in the undergrowth, and then, far away to the north, sounded a single long shriek, savage and shrill, that caused a sudden long silence in the woods. Probably it was a lynx on his night’s hunting.
Moonrise put them both wide awake again for a time. But as an hour passed and nothing in particular happened, they grew drowsy once more. Alice frankly put her head on the big log and dozed, but Carl kept awake with determination, scrutinizing the edge of the woods all along the ghostly rows of beehives.
Time passes very slowly in such a vigil, and the moon was getting lower in the sky. Carl was growing very tired of it, and he had nudged Alice awake several times, when it suddenly struck him that something had moved in the woods behind him. He was not sure what he had heard, or whether he had heard anything, but the next instant a black figure passed between him and one of the nearest rows of hives.
Almost breathless, he squeezed Alice’s arm and she looked up, blinking. Carl pointed. The dim figure moved forward, with a stealthy, heavy, noiseless swing, till it came out in the clear moonlight, and they both saw the figure of the bear distinctly.