He stood for several moments in deep thought. The look on his sallow face was far from pleasant.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SERPENT STRIKES
When Winthrope came up with the others, they were gathering green leaves to throw on the fire which was blazing close beside the ant-hill.
“Get a move on you!” called Blake. “You’re slow. Grab a bunch of leaves, and get into the smoke, if you don’t want to be stung.”
Winthrope neither gathered any leaves nor hurried himself, until he was visited by a highly irritated bee. Then he obeyed with alacrity. Blake was far too intent on other matters to heed the Englishman. Leaping in and out of the thick of the smoke, he pounded the ant-hill with his club, until he had broken a gaping hole into the cavity. The smoke, pouring into the hive, made short work of the bees that had not already been suffocated.
Although the antelope skin was drawn into the shape of a sack, both it and the pot were filled to overflowing with honey, and there were still more combs left than the three could eat.
Blake caught Winthrope smiling with satisfaction as he licked his fingers.
“What’s the matter with my expedition now, old man?” he demanded.
“I–ah–must admit, Blake, we have had a most enjoyable change of food.”