"'WHOOP! THERE SHE GOES!'"
He started to dash forward as soon as the tree had struck, eager to ascertain what sort of prize they had drawn in the lottery; but his more careful brother laid hands on him.
"Don't try it!" he exclaimed. "Why, they are so wild just now, they'd sting you to death!"
"But how are we going to get at the honey, Bob?" demanded the younger lad.
"You run to the house, and tell the others the good news. I'll be making veils out of this thin cloth. Then we have the gloves we used last winter. Bring a lot of pails back with you; for I think we'll need all you can find."
Sandy hastened back to the cabin, where he electrified his father and mother and little Kate with the joyful news. They got together every available vessel for carrying the expected spoils; and then Sandy led the way back to where his brother awaited them.
On the trail he was compelled to explain just how they had taken Pat O'Mara's advice with regard to tracing the honey gatherers; and what splendid success had resulted. Kate was singing with delight over the anticipated store of sweets that would reward their skill in locating the bee tree, for, in those early pioneer days, as a rule the only sugar the settlers had was obtained through boiling down the sap of the sugar maple tree in the early spring; or in discovering some secret store of honey in the forest.
Bob had arranged things completely to his satisfaction while his brother was away. Both of the young pioneers donned the veils and gloves, so that the bees might not take a terrible revenge on the destroyers of their home.
Bob had also made a smudge with which he expected to partly stupefy the angry little creatures. Smoke always frightens bees, for they seem to think that fire is about to devastate their hive. Nature influences them to immediately load up with all the honey they can possibly carry, with the idea of taking it to some new retreat; and while in this condition they are comparatively harmless.