Rocky Mountain Boys Part 14

Progress was rather slow, for he had to pa.s.s around many obstacles, so dense was the vegetation in this low lying spot adjoining the marshy tract where he found the muskrat colony. There was a sense of pleasure, however, in peering around, not knowing at what minute a fleet doe might jump up before him.

To his surprise, and also a little to his chagrin, the tempting place did not appear to harbor any sort of game whatever. But then Tom was enough of a sportsman to know that such often proves the case; the likely spots turn out good for nothing; while, when least expected, luck often springs upon the unwary.

Only one thing caught his attention in making his way along, that seemed worth a second thought. Stooping down in the heart of the dense growth, Tom picked something up, which he proceeded to examine with increasing interest.

It seemed to be a piece of comb from the honey store of a wild colony of bees, such as are found in nearly every section of the country south of a certain belt, beyond which the winters are too severe for the busy little insects.

Now, Tom had at some time in the past been in the company of a man who had once made a living, far away in New England, gathering wild honey, spruce gum, and many other products of the Maine pine woods. The subject had interested the boy exceedingly, and he had asked many questions relating to it, that brought him quite a store of information.

Just the sight and smell of this old piece of comb aroused within him an eager desire to discover just where it came from. If only he could bring home a pail of delicious honey, what would Felix say? Why, his mouth began to water at the very thought of such a delightful accession to their larder. Think of dripping sweetness flowing over the fine flapjacks Felix liked to make, and in which he really excelled!

That was too much for Tom. He just couldn't stand it any longer, but resolved that since game refused to spring up before his rifle, he would forget all about hunting; save that somewhere in this thicket growth there evidently lay a bee tree, fairly groaning with richness; and which he was resolved to find, if it lay in his power to do so.

He looked up, but could see no sign near him indicating that bees had a hive in any tree; in fact there was none of a suitable size right there.

Tom shrewdly guessed the truth. He knew that black bears have a sweet tooth; and will go miles to rob a bee tree. The stings of thousands of the little insects do not appear to bother Bruin a particle; perhaps he is immune to the poison they inject; or else most of them fail to reach his skin, on account of the thick hair.

Apparently, then, some thief of a bear was periodically robbing this secret storehouse of its sweets, and had dragged this comb away with him on a recent visit.

The comb, while somewhat discolored, had not been drained of its nectar more than a few days, Tom thought. That would seem to indicate that the hive could not be very far away. If he could only find it, with an axe he might soon fell the tree in which it was secreted, and then take toll of the preserves.

Every tree around came under his observation, and was only allowed to pa.s.s after he had surveyed its entire trunk, and become convinced that it had no hollow part in which a colony of busy workers might find a home for the winter's sleep.

And now that he was upon the subject of bear, he remembered that only a couple of days back he had himself seen signs of such an animal in the woods, and wondered how it came that a black, usually hibernating at this time of year, chanced to be moving around.

This explained it. Bruin had made a late discovery, and his appet.i.te for sweet things would not allow him to shut himself up until "the last horn blew."

And perhaps, if he could find the bee tree, he might also get track of the bear, since it would be difficult to divorce the animal from so dainty a morsel, once he had found how to get at the hive.

So Tom kept up his search, all the time hoping to make a pleasing discovery that would make his chum's eye dance, and add a pleasing variety to their meals.

He had spent half an hour in this vain hunt when he came upon a tree that seemed to offer possibilities; for it had a big cavity, and there was more or less of a chance that some of its larger limbs were also hollow. It is this kind that appears to be the favorite lodgment of the bees after swarming from some other hive that is overcrowded; a place where they can grow indefinitely, and lay up an increasing store with each successive summer.

A ton of honey has sometimes been gathered from a single bee tree; much of it too old and discolored to be of much good but showing that the little workers never know when they have enough for their winter use.

Tom became so impressed with the possibilities of this particular tree that he determined to climb up its trunk and investigate at close range.

Of course, in order to ascend, he was compelled to lay his rifle on the ground, as he would surely need both hands to draw himself upward.

Perhaps at the time Tom may have remembered the strange experience of his chum, Felix, while held unarmed in a tree, by the wounded buck; but if so, Tom did not dream of allowing such an idea to deter him in the least. Who could imagine any trouble springing from such an apparently innocent amus.e.m.e.nt as climbing a tree to see if any of its limbs being hollow might shelter a swarm of bees, with their golden brown store of honey? And besides, a rifle is not often used to shoot such small game, Tom remembered with a chuckle.

Once among the branches, he had little difficulty in climbing aloft; and was soon going about his business of examining the various limbs that seemed to promise a hope of containing the treasure house he sought.

He must have pa.s.sed the hole in the trunk while climbing up the other side, for otherwise such keen eyes as Tom Tucker possessed would surely have noticed certain scratches calculated to arouse his suspicions.

One by one the limbs were looked over, and dismissed from the list of possibilities, until there remained only a small opening in the main trunk, about twenty feet above his head.

Without much hope of finding what he sought there, Tom climbed laboriously upward to this point, just about to give over the quest; he could not discover any signs that would indicate the presence of a swarm; and yet, as he placed his ear to this last opening, it seemed to him that he could catch a faint buzzing sound from within that excited new hopes.

He examined the trunk up and down, but there was certainly no chance of finding the antic.i.p.ated hive further aloft; and if in the tree at all, it apparently must be down further.

The cavity beside him seemed to extend some distance downward; indeed, Tom was now of the opinion that it must connect with the larger opening he remembered having seen when on the ground, and which had slipped his attention when climbing. On his way back he must certainly take a look in there; meanwhile he would like to know positively that the bees were not snugly ensconced in the upper trunk near this minor gash; and as an idea flashed into his mind, without a second thought he set about carrying it into practice.

Taking a piece of oiled rag from the pocket of his khaki canvas hunting coat, which he was wearing at the time over his sweater and vest, he ignited it with a match, and immediately dropped this into the opening; holding back to see whether even a solitary bee made its appearance, since that would tell the story.

And Tom immediately became aware of the fact that there was certainly _something_ going on inside that tree trunk. At first the boy found himself thinking that he stirred up the biggest bees' nest ever heard of; for from what at first seemed to be a simple buzzing, there grew a rumbling that kept on increasing, until it was simply astounding; and Tom hardly knew what to make of it all, as he hung there to the side of the tree trunk, looking downward.

The next thing he saw was smoke puffing out of where he knew the big opening lay.

"h.e.l.lo!" he exclaimed, with mingled astonishment and amus.e.m.e.nt; "I did more than I expected, I reckon, and set the old buster afire inside.

Say, she must have been as dry as tinder, to catch like that. Perhaps it's the fire making all that racket--no it ain't, either, for I never heard a burning tree make a noise like that. Sounds like growls, too--by George, it _is_ growls, and I just bet you I've struck the snuggery of Mr. Bear first pop!"

The idea was so surprising that Tom just clung there, and stared with wide-open eyes at the opening below, from whence welled those strange sounds; together with various little wisps of smoke that seemed to be getting stronger as they ascended.

By and by the boy sniffed at this smoke, and as he did so he gave vent to another exclamation as if to voice his wonder, while something like a broad grin decorated his face.

"Burning hair, as sure as you live!" he exclaimed. "Bless me, if I don't think the old critter must be on fire; that oiled rag lit on his back, and took hold!"

Even as Tom gave vent to this startling opinion something appeared at the opening below; something that speedily resolved itself into a smouldering black bear, that looked both scared and angry as he backed out of his den, snapping at various parts of his fat body, where the fire had touched most severely.

If Tom had been able to restrain his loud and scornful laughter, in all probability Bruin would have scrambled down from the tree, and ambled off; or else rolled in the snow to cool his scorched body; but the sight seemed so very comical that the boy burst into a shout.

He was immediately sorry for doing so.

The singed bear twisted his head when in the act of lowering himself stern first, and caught sight of his human enemy above.

Somehow the sight of the boy seemed to completely alter the animal's plans; and instead of showing fear, he now gave evidence of extreme anger, just as though he might be able to figure out some connection between the presence of that biped in his tree, and the suffering he was even then undergoing.

He showed his teeth in a vicious growl.

"Go on down, old man!" called out Tom, waving his hand; "the walking's fine. Besides, there's nothing for you up here. I'm not hankering for company, I tell you. So just skip out, please--do you hear, you beggar?"

and Tom ended with a shout; for, to his consternation, the singed bear had commenced to ascend the tree again, evidently with the intention of trying conclusions with this enemy who had hurt him so grievously.

Tom did not exactly like the looks of things just about then.

There, he was, above the ground some forty feet, with an enraged bear climbing in his direction, and evidently bent on mischief. It was too great a distance to be covered in a jump, since the ground was frozen and hard, so that a broken ankle might be the result. To ascend further would mean that he must soon be chased to the very pinnacle of the tree, with Bruin close after, bent on clutching him with his sharp claws, and teaching him a lesson in politeness.

Whatever he expected to do must be started quickly, for the animal was getting closer all the time. If he only had a good long pole; or even a stout club, Tom believed he might poke the brute so furiously that he would conclude to give over his attempt to close with the boy who had laughed so heartlessly over his misfortunes, though Tom was doing so no longer, it might be noticed.

But he might just as well wish for his rifle, lying there so temptingly on the ground; it would be impossible to twist off a branch large enough, and reduce it to the proper consistency in time to meet the bear's attack.

Tom, as the bear came close, began to move out on a limb, wondering whether the animal would really follow after him. That doubt was speedily removed, for Bruin never so much as hesitated, though he came with extreme caution, feeling his way, step by step, suspicious lest he were being led into a trap.

It seemed to Tom, however, that if any one appeared to be in a trap, that individual must be himself. With each foot that he crept out on that bending limb, he felt that his chances for escaping those cruel claws in an encounter with their angry owner grew less and less.

Suppose the limb should break under their combined weight, it would be a serious thing to go tumbling down fully forty feet, in company with the fat, hairy monster; possibly to be clasped in his embrace after landing.

Of course, if he could only be sure of alighting on Bruin when the collision came, it would not seem so bad; but that was only one chance in ten; and on the other hand the miserable beast might drop squarely upon him, which would be completing the tragedy.

One thing Tom noticed was, that the further out on the limb he crawled the more it sagged, so that he was even now close to the outcropping branches below; and the daring thought flashed through his brain that possibly he might suddenly let go his hold above, and by a show of dexterity, succeed in securing a new grip as he fell!