to take the keenest possible delight in the jokes and pranks of the boys that he was to guide through the Maine wilderness.

Vaughn was not much of a horseman, and he had brought a pony along, not because he expected to ride much, but because he needed something to carry his pack. When Cale was looking over Tad's pony, "Silver Face," the boy discovered that the man knew little about horses, though Tad was too polite to mention the fact.

That evening they gathered about the campfire with all hands relating experiences. Stacy Brown recounted, for Cale's benefit, how he had hunted lion in the Grand Canyon; how he had fought a battle single-handed and won. The fat boy went over the story three times, each time enlarging upon it, Cale observing him with a good-natured smile, but making no comment. He was forming his estimate of Stacy, though Brown was unaware of the fact.

It was late when they finally turned in, and still no Charlie John had arrived. Cale sat up to wait for him, and the Indian came in with his pack at five minutes before midnight.

"Where put um?" asked the half-breed.

"Over there," answered Cale carelessly, with a wave of the hand.

The Indian's pack weighed some seventy-five pounds. It looked like a laundry bag. The instant he flung the pack down there came a yell, a series of wild howls that brought every member of the camp to his feet.

Groans and moans from under the Indian's pack attracted their attention to that point. At the first yell, Cale sprang forward and began pulling off the pack.

"You lummox!" he fumed, giving the Indian a menacing glance.

CHAPTER IV

BAITING THE HONEY BEES

The Indian had dumped his seventy-five pound pack on the sleeping Chunky.

Chunky's howls grew more lusty as the pack was jerked from his body.

"Are you hurt?" begged Cale.

"I'm killed! I'm killed!"

"You are pretty noisy for a dead man. Let's see how badly you are hurt."

"That tree fell right-right across me."

"It wasn't a tree. Charlie John dropped his pack on you," the guide informed him.

"He did, eh?" cried Stacy, sitting up.

"Yes, but he didn't see you. You were lying here in the shadow. Perhaps I am the one to blame. I told him to drop his pack over here, not thinking that you were there."

"Why don't you folks finish me in a decent way, if you are so anxious to get rid of me?" demanded the fat boy, dropping over on his back and commencing to moan again.

"Here you, stop that nonsense!" commanded Tad Butler, grabbing Stacy and jerking him to his feet. "Any fellow who can raise a rumpus like that isn't hurt at all. So this is Charlie John, is it?"

"This is the man," nodded the guide.

Tad shook hands with the Indian, who grunted his acknowledgment. The others made themselves known to the half-breed and after a time the camp settled down to quietness, Chunky disturbing the quiet at intervals by a groan, for he really had sustained a severe jolt.

The next morning they were up at daylight. After an early breakfast the party set out for the dark blue ridge in the distance, and after an uneventful day they made camp at the foot of Old Bald Mountain. They had reached the forest. The tall spruce trees were sighing overhead, the odor of pine was strong in their nostrils, and the bracing air put new life into every one of the party.

At supper that night Tad chanced to mention that he had been stung by a bee just before they made camp. Cale was interested at once. He asked where this had occurred. Tad told him.

"We shall have some honey in the morning," said the guide with a smile.

"How will you find it?" asked the Professor.

"I will lure the bees. I will show you after supper. You lead me to the place where you got the sting."

This Tad did, the boys following, full of interest. Vaughn eyed the trees about them with keen glances.

"I guess we shall have to set a trap for them," he decided, drawing a small vial from a receptacle in his belt. Shaking the bottle well he drew the cork and touched it against the trunk of a tree, after which he corked the bottle and replaced it.

"What is that stuff?" asked the Professor.

"Oil of anise."

"What does it do?"

"Calls the bees. If there are any about here you will see them in the morning. It will call bears and several other animals, too," smiled the guide.

"Will this call the bears?" urged Stacy.

"No, I haven't used enough of it. Besides, there are no bears down here. We may find bear after we have got deeper into the woods. It is bees we are after at the present moment."

The boys marveled greatly at this. They had never heard of this use for oil of anise, and they were full of curiosity as to the outcome of the experiment.

At daybreak, on the following morning, Vaughn awakened the boys.

"Time to look for bees," he said. "Charlie, you get breakfast while we are away. Make some biscuit or cakes. You know how, don't you?"

"Me know."

Cale got his rope——not a lasso, but a rope about seven feet long and very limber. Thus equipped, all hands started out, Vaughn in the lead, his glances everywhere.

"Ou—ouch!" howled Chunky. "I'm stung! I'm stung!"

"That's good," cried the guide. "There he is!"

"Good? Good?" moaned the fat boy, dancing about holding his nose, the part that had been touched by the stinger of a bee.

"I meant the bee, not the sting," hastily explained the guide.

"There are more of them," called Tad. "My, they're all here, aren't they?"

"Watch them, boys. We must find out what direction they take after they leave here."

"There goes one to the left," cried Ned.

Cale started on a run. He halted a few paces from the tree.

"Spread out over the place. If any of you sees a bee, call to me. They don't live far from here. I can tell by the way they act. Here come more of them."

The guide appeared to have the eyes of a hawk. He could see a bee where the others were able to discover nothing at all. Cale followed the trail like a hound, except that his nose and eyes were in the air instead of on the ground.

Vaughn, after running some fifteen or twenty rods, dodging trees, leaping rocks and fallen trunks, came to a sudden halt. The rest of the party was floundering some distance in his rear.

"I think we are close to it now. Use your eyes. Look for a hole in a tree or a crotch that looks as if it might hold a bees' nest. This looks to me like a bee tree," he announced.

The guide unslung his rope, and, taking off his boots, passed the rope about the trunk of the tree, holding the free ends in his hands, and leaning well back he began to climb. This was accomplished by frequently hitching the rope up, then taking a step upward.

The boys watched his ascent with fascinated eyes. They had never seen anything like this. Vaughn was as agile as a cat.

"I believe I could do that," declared Chunky.

"Try it," urged the boys.

The fat boy did. After several attempts he succeeded in walking up the trunk of a tree for fully ten feet. Chunky grinned down at them jeeringly. "You fellows are not so smart as you think you are, eh? Why, with a little practice I believe I could walk on a ceiling with my head down. I'd be the human fly, then, wouldn't I? I—Yeow! I'm falling!"

The fat boy had leaned forward, forgetting in his enthusiasm that he must throw his full weight on the rope by leaning backward. Of course the rope slipped, and down came Stacy.

Tad sprang forward to catch him. He only partially succeeded. Stacy struck the ground and rolled off, howling lustily, while Tad Butler went sprawling on his back. To add to the fat boy's discomfiture two bees struck him under the right eye, bringing from the lad fresh howls of pain. By this time, Cale had reached the part of the tree where he believed the bees' store