"We've got the line now," remarked Bob; "and can even go further into the woods, keeping on a straight road. But, for fear that we may overshoot the mark, suppose we make another trial right here."
"Just as you say, Bob," returned Sandy. "You got Pat to tell you lots of things he wouldn't repeat for me. I wonder could it be that leaning tree through there. Seems to me that might be a fine old hive, for it looks hollow enough."
"But you remember Pat said they don't often select a dead tree. It might blow down, and spoil their stock of honey," his brother went on to say.
"But they do find a hollow, don't they?" Sandy inquired.
"Yes; usually the top of a tree that has a hole in it, or a big limb. They are wise enough to know that the rain must be kept out, and also that certain wild animals are mighty fond of honey. Now, here goes, Sandy. Watch close—there!"
Again Bob cast the gorged prisoner free, and the little insect, after several vain efforts, managed to mount upward on sagging wings and make off.
This time as before they marked the last appearance of the laden honey bee, and then a third trial was made. When a fourth and a fifth drew them still deeper into the forest Sandy began to grow much excited. He kept looking all around him while his brother carried out the important operation of coaxing the bee to accept a cargo of sugar sirup in the place of the scarce nectar in the flowers.
All at once Bob looked up.
"Hark!" he exclaimed.
Sandy at once made a move as though about to sling his gun around from his back. Then he saw the smile on his brother's face; and, suspecting the truth, cocked his own head in a listening attitude.