Without much hope of finding what he sought there, Tom climbed laboriously upward to this point, just about to give over the quest; he could not discover any signs that would indicate the presence of a swarm; and yet, as he placed his ear to this last opening, it seemed to him that he could catch a faint buzzing sound from within that excited new hopes.
He examined the trunk up and down, but there was certainly no chance of finding the anticipated hive further aloft; and if in the tree at all, it apparently must be down further.
The cavity beside him seemed to extend some distance downward; indeed, Tom was now of the opinion that it must connect with the larger opening he remembered having seen when on the ground, and which had slipped his attention when climbing. On his way back he must certainly take a look in there; meanwhile he would like to know positively that the bees were not snugly ensconced in the upper trunk near this minor gash; and as an idea flashed into his mind, without a second thought he set about carrying it into practice.
Taking a piece of oiled rag from the pocket of his khaki canvas hunting coat, which he was wearing at the time over his sweater and vest, he ignited it with a match, and immediately dropped this into the opening; holding back to see whether even a solitary bee made its appearance, since that would tell the story.
And Tom immediately became aware of the fact that there was certainly something going on inside that tree trunk. At first the boy found himself thinking that he stirred up the biggest bees' nest ever heard of; for from what at first seemed to be a simple buzzing, there grew a rumbling that kept on increasing, until it was simply astounding; and Tom hardly knew what to make of it all, as he hung there to the side of the tree trunk, looking downward.
The next thing he saw was smoke puffing out of where he knew the big opening lay.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, with mingled astonishment and amusement; "I did more than I expected, I reckon, and set the old buster afire inside. Say, she must have been as dry as tinder, to catch like that. Perhaps it's the fire making all that racket—no it ain't, either, for I never heard a burning tree make a noise like that. Sounds like growls, too—by George, it is growls, and I just bet you I've struck the snuggery of Mr. Bear first pop!"
The idea was so surprising that Tom just clung there, and stared with wide-open eyes at the opening below, from whence welled those strange sounds; together with various little wisps of smoke that seemed to be getting stronger as they ascended.
By and by the boy sniffed at this smoke, and as he did so he gave vent to another exclamation as if to voice his wonder, while something like a broad grin decorated his face.
"Burning hair, as sure as you live!" he exclaimed. "Bless me, if I don't think the old critter must be on fire; that oiled rag lit on his back, and took hold!"