Walter and Woodhull appeared next, but as they were unencumbered by veils they picked their footing with more discretion, and Louis stopped as soon as he reached the open, Walter following his example half-way to Billy. Lastly appeared Big Jim, who came out of the woods leisurely, his axe still in his hand. Jim was grinning. It was clear to Billy that something had happened, but that whatever it was the guide considered the danger past now.
Something had happened. Following the guide in single file they had proceeded some distance when they became aware of a humming sound which steadily increased in volume as they advanced. Suddenly Big Jim abruptly halted and held up a warning hand. There was a puzzled look on the guide’s face.
“Somethin’ has made them bees plumb mad fer sartin,” he whispered.
The volume of sound increased. It was as if off in the tree tops beyond a huge top was spinning. The brush was still too thick for them to see the tree itself. Then into the steady hum of the bees there broke a new note, half growl, half whine, followed by the ripping sound of rent wood.
The guide’s face cleared. “You boys are goin’ t’ see somethin’ in a minute yer won’t likely ever see agen. Now come on, and be mighty careful about not makin’ no noise,” he whispered.
A few feet further on the thick young growth opened up and they came in full view of Billy’s bee tree. What they saw drew a startled exclamation from the three younger boys, at once silenced by a warning hiss from Big Jim. There, fifty feet from the ground, gripping the tree with hind legs and one huge fore arm, was an immense black bear. The long claws of the paw that was free had been hooked into the entrance hole and a long strip the length of the crack which had led to Billy’s undoing a few days previous had been torn out, exposing the hollow packed with comb. Bruin was then occupied in scooping out great pieces of comb dripping with honey and transferring them to her mouth, whining and growling and stopping every other second to slap at the bees clustered in an angry cloud about her head.
What no one did see, because all eyes were turned up instead of on the ground, were two little brown bundles of fur that scurried for the shelter of a windfall.
“Ain’t a mite o’ danger,” whispered the guide, noting the panicky look on some of the faces. “In ’bout a minute yer’ll see th’ worst scared bar in the North Woods. Now don’t run when she comes down if yer don’t want th’ hull camp laughin’ at yer,” he warned, seeing Chip and Tug already beginning to edge away.
Had Jim been aware of the presence of the two cubs he would have adopted a very different course of action. He was counting on the fact that despite its great size and immense strength the black bear is one of the most timid of all wild animals in the presence of man unless wounded, cornered or called upon to protect its young. Perhaps timidity is not quite a fair indictment. Let us say rather that of all wild animals none has come to have a more wholesome respect for man, and it is a well-known fact that not even a deer will bolt quicker at man’s approach than will this black comedian of the big woods.
It was with this fact in mind that the guide advanced a few steps and suddenly sent forth an ear-splitting whoop. Things happened then with a rapidity that left no time for thought. Walter stoutly maintains to this day that the bear neither slid nor climbed down—that she simply let go and dropped. Certain it is that the echo of Jim’s wild yell was still ringing in the woods when she landed with a thump that brought forth a grunt. Then, instead of the mad flight on which the guide had counted, she reared on her haunches with her back to the tree, growling savagely, her little pig eyes red with rage.