“What shall we do now, make a break out of here?” asked Spud when day had fairly broken.
“Not on your tintype!” replied Billy. “I’m lost all I’m goin’ to be. You get busy and build another fire over there about fifty feet. When it gets goin’ good heap on a lot of green leaves and rotten wood to make a smoke. I’ll do the same thing with this fire. There ain’t a breath of wind; those two smokes will go straight up, and you know two smokes means ‘lost.’ Some one will be up at the lookout on the top of Old Scraggy the first thing this morning, and he’ll see the smokes. Then he’ll get word to camp and a party will come out and find us.”
Wise Billy. He had decided upon just the right course of action. After the return of the unsuccessful searching parties Dr. Merriam had spent an anxious night. Before daybreak he had dispatched Seaforth with one of the guides to the top of Old Scraggy. They had seen the signal smokes at once and heliographed the location of them to camp. A party led by Big Jim and Louis Woodhull had started immediately, and as soon as they reached the clearing where the boys had begun their bee hunt they saw the smoke lazily curling above the tree tops about a mile beyond.
Firing signal shots and stopping every few minutes to send a whoop ringing through the woods they pushed on and presently, guided by answering whoops from the two victims, found the camp.
“Mother of saints!” exclaimed Big Jim as he caught a glimpse of the swollen and mud-stained faces of the two boys.
Billy smiled feebly, for the effort was painful. “We found a bee tree,” he said.
“Found a bee tree! Found a bee tree!” echoed the guide. “’Pears to me thet them bees did some findin’ on their own account.”
Then seeing what really pitiful condition the two youngsters were in he called an abrupt halt to all jollying by the rescuers and at once prepared for the return to camp. One of the party was sent on ahead to relieve the doctor of his worry, and the rest slowly worked their way out, for Billy was too stiff and sore to hurry much.
At the first brook a halt was made and the faces of the two victims were tenderly bathed and made a little more presentable to enter camp. Billy’s volatile spirits were already back to normal. He was full of the bee tree and the bear and already laying plans for getting the honey.
At mention of the bear Big Jim smiled. “Folks thet git lost in th’ woods most generally meet up with a bar,” he remarked dryly. “Didn’t give yer a lock o’ his hair fer a soovineer, did he, son?”