The angry insects buzzed forth, but were easily put to flight by the blazing torches. Then vigorous blows from Jim Havens' hatchet sent the chips flying.
A cheer broke forth, when a great quantity of honey was disposed to view.
"Bet there's fifty pounds in there," said Dick, gleefully.
"Um—um," exclaimed Dave. "For breakfast, dinner and supper."
"You'll be um—umming more when you taste it," said Bob, slyly.
Back to the dugout for pans and dishes they tramped. These were soon filled to the brim with the most delicious honey. The four proceeded to enjoy some at once, and it was quite a while before work was resumed.
The slender maples which Havens had cut were then dragged to camp. These were nailed about six inches apart over the hole in the roof and a quantity of fir brush interwoven. A rough door was next fashioned out of the remaining saplings, and their work was done.
Late in the afternoon, the four, guns in hand, started off after game. In the course of an hour, they were a considerable distance from the dugout, skirting along the edge of a precipice.
Dick Travers, in advance of the others, caught a glimpse of some animal skulking through the underbrush straight ahead. With visions of securing a pelt worth while, he stole steadily forward.
"As I live, it's a fox," he murmured, excitedly. "Gee, I must get a crack at that."