"Slapped on some mud first, and now you want to try some hartshorn? That's right. I'll get you some quick."
He was getting behind the counter very fast for so fat a man, but Steve shouted, "Hurrah, Andy! let's go for the Captain's nest."
"Do, my dear boys, do. I consent to their utter obliteration and extermination; but I wish you would preserve their interesting domicile intact."
"He means, Andy, that we may kill the hornets, but we mustn't spoil the nest. He's awful on big words."
"How did it happen?" asked the Deacon, as he held out a big bottle and a sponge.
"Happen? It was no fault of mine. I did but attempt an unobtrusive inspection of the marvellous ramifications of their intricate habitation."
"That's it," said Steve. "He stuck his nose into the nest, and they all went for him. Come on, Andy."
They were out of sight by the time half the mud had been sponged from the Captain's long lean face, but before they reached his queer little house, at the further corner of the village green, the hornets were in trouble.
Harman Strauss and Bill Ogden and Van Seaver had seen the Captain run, and they all knew about that hornets' nest.
"Fire's the thing," said Van.