"Listen! Don't you hear a strange buzzing up there?" demanded Frank.
"Now that you mention it, I believe I do. Sounds to me like a hive of bees."
"That's just what it is, and Jerry knew it as soon as he heard it. A hive
of bees in this old live-oak, with perhaps a big store of honey laid up.
Bluff, doesn't that tickle your palate? Well, it did Jerry's, for sure.
He climbed up!"
"After he had shot that deer, then?" asked Bluff.
"Undoubtedly. I remember, now, that honey always appealed to Jerry more than any other sweet stuff. He was remarking, only the last time we had flapjacks, that it was a beastly blunder we had none of us thought to bring a bottle of honey along."
"But he isn't up there, now, for I can see the whole tree. Still he keeps on chuckling. I can't make it out, Frank. But you know, for I see it in your face! Where is Jerry?"
Frank deliberately rapped on the trunk of the big oak.
"Hello, Jerry! Anybody at home in there?" he called.
"Only a stranger and a pilgrim, who wants to get out the worst way, and can't," came in a muffled voice.
Bluff gave a roar of amazement.