Presently Sandy came back to the spot where the others were standing in safety. He had a bucket almost full of broken combs from which the richness was oozing in a manner that set little Kate wild with delight. As for the good mother the sight was undoubtedly a pleasant one for her, since it promised many a delightful treat in the long winter months ahead.
David Armstrong immediately started home with the bucket, so as to empty it, and once more put it into service. Bob was still working there in the midst of the ruined hive.
"And he says there are, oh! ever so many more buckets of better honey than this!" Sandy had cried, as he brought out a second supply, in which the combs were less broken than before, and seemed newer.
"The whole air is filled with the perfume of honey," remarked Mary Armstrong. "It hardly seems right to rob the poor little workers in this way, after they have stored it up so carefully; though we do need it badly, for there will be little sugar in our home except what we make next spring."
"Oh! Bob says there'll be just oceans of it left, spilled on the ground," Sandy went on, "and the bees will get it all, sooner or later. Plenty of time for 'em to seal it up for this winter. They always have ten times too much, and that's why some of it is so old and dark looking. Bob says he is not taking that if he can help it."
"Why, I could smell the honey half way to the house," remarked Mr. Armstrong, as he came up just then. "And, if there happens to be a bear within half a mile of this place, you can depend on it that he'll be prowling around here this very night."
"That was just what Bob was saying, father!" declared Sandy. "He showed me marks on the smooth trunk of the sycamore, where a bear must have climbed up ever so often, as if trying to reach in at the honey that was just too far away for him to steal. And some of the scratches were so fresh Bob says they must have been made only last night."
After numerous trips to the cabin to empty the buckets the pleasant task was finally completed. Bob declared that he had secured about all of the honey that was worth carrying away. There still remained a great store of the sticky stuff; but it was either spilled on the ground, or else so darkened by age that it did not seem worth while carrying it off.
"We'll leave it to the poor little fellows," laughed Bob; "for they're as busy as beavers right now loading up and flying off to another hollow tree one of 'em has found. And I think we're pretty lucky to get off as easy as we did, eh, Sandy?"
Sandy had removed the thin cloth veil that covered his face, and by this action revealed the fact that at least one angry bee had found a way to pierce his armor; for his left cheek was swollen so that his eye seemed unusually small. Some wet clay took the pain out, however, and in due course of time the swelling would go down.