“Come along! No use talking any more!” muttered Bob, and the boys departed, feeling rather beaten and angry. They crossed the clearing and paused to look back from the cover of the woods. Larue was standing in his doorway, gazing after them.
“All the same, I know the honey is somewhere about this place,” Bob broke out. “Why, I could smell it. I couldn’t be mistaken. And that piece of comb—”
“It was certainly a piece of a section,” Carl agreed. “I’m afraid, though, that I made a bad break in threatening him with a constable. He’ll be sure to move the plunder right away to some place where nobody could ever find it.”
“He certainly hasn’t got it in his cabin. Maybe it’s stored in the barn.”
“Likely enough. Or somewhere near here in the woods. How we’ll ever locate it is more than I can imagine.”
“If it’s in any exposed place some bees will be likely to find it and rob it out for him. Wish they would!” said Bob.
Carl looked quickly at his brother and meditated in silence for a moment.
“Look here!” he exclaimed at last. “Why can’t we send bees to scout for that honey. They might even carry it back, and no power on earth could stop them if they got going. Of course they couldn’t lug the sections home, but they’d lick out all the honey and put it in their hives again, and we could extract it. That would be better than losing it all.”
Bob looked dubious at first, and then he began to laugh.
“Robbing the robber!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know but what it might work. Anyway, it’s a brilliant idea and ought to be tried. None of those shipping cases had their tops closed, and the bees could get into them without any trouble. But how’ll we work it? It’s three miles from here to the bee-yard.”