matter drop. He himself was not altogether convinced that they had seen the last of the proud young chief, though he hardly anticipated that it would be Kate's pretty face that might draw Black Beaver south again.

Many of the settlers passed an uneasy night; but there was no alarm. Talking the matter over among themselves, some of the men had arrived at the conviction that these representatives of the Iroquois may have been attending one of those great meetings which were being engineered by the Pottawottomi sachem, Pontiac, looking toward a combination of most of the various tribes, by means of which the French in the far North would be assisted, and the English settlements through Ohio, Kentucky, and along the Great Lakes be wiped out.

If this were indeed the truth, then Black Beaver had professed a friendship that he really did not feel, since he must have been forming some league with the warlike and merciless Shawanees, under such leaders as the detested renegade, Simon Girty, of whose cruel deeds history has told.

When the morning finally arrived without any sign of trouble, even gentle Mary Armstrong seemed to have recovered from her nervousness. She assented to the wish of the boys to go forth, and see what they could do in the way of securing fresh food. Before leaving, Sandy cautioned his mother about Kate, for he could not forget the covetous looks which the painted young chief had cast toward his pretty little sister, child though she was, being not more than twelve years of age.

"Be sure and fetch an ax along, Sandy," said Bob, just as they were ready to start forth, with guns fastened over their shoulders by means of straps. "But, if you can help it, don't let mother see you. She would think it strange that we carried such a thing on a little hunt for a deer."

"But what if we succeed in locating the bee tree, and cut it down; how are we to carry the honey home?" asked Sandy.

"Time enough for that when we have won out," replied Bob, with a laugh. "Besides, I don't think we'll be more than a quarter, or at most a third of a mile away from home, unless the little insects are hunting at a longer distance than they generally do, as Pat O'Mara told me."

"Have you got the sugar and everything along?" questioned Sandy.

"Of course. I'd be a pretty chap to go off unprepared, wouldn't I? Now, watch your chance, and sneak the ax off. We'll surely need it to chop the tree down,—if we find it," Bob concluded.

But his sanguine brother never doubted in the least that success was bound to attend their efforts. He went into everything he did with the same enthusiasm and confidence.

Ten minutes later the boys were in an open glade not a great distance away from the Armstrong cabin. Here flowers grew in profusion, even at this late day in the season; and Kate was in the habit of coming out to pick great bunches of the pretty posies, for she loved to see them around the humble cabin, brightening things with their color, and sweetening the atmosphere with their perfume.

Even in those days the methods of bee hunters did not differ very much from those which are in vogue in the woods to-day. The Irish trapper had posted the Armstrong boys as to the way in which a bee tree could be discovered, once busy little workers were found loading up with honey in the flowers or blossoms.

First of all the boys hunted until they discovered where some of the wild bees were busily engaged. Honey was not so plentiful at this particular season of the year; and, when Bob made a little sirup out of some yellow sugar he had been wise enough to fetch along, a bee was quickly attracted to the feast.

When he had loaded himself down with the spoils, and was preparing to fly away, Bob dextrously caught the little fellow. Taking care not to be stung he succeeded in attaching a long white thread to the bee's body, in such a way that it would not interfere with his flying, yet could be seen for quite a distance.

Then the captive was released. As is universally the case, the bee arose in the air, and made a straight fly for the hive! That is where the phrase "a bee-line" originated.

"Watch him now, Sandy!" called Bob, as he liberated the prisoner.

"All right," answered his brother, eagerly. "I can see him still; and how he does spin along. There, he has disappeared now, right beyond that big poplar yonder. Do we go there next time, Bob?"

"Yes," came the reply; "that gives us a start, and will bring us just so much nearer the hive. Then we must catch another bee, and repeat the job. And, as we may not find as many of them, once we enter the woods, we will put several in this little bottle I've brought along with me."

This was easily accomplished; after which they walked over to where they had obtained the very last glimpse of the laden worker.

"We've got the line now," remarked Bob; "and can even go further into the woods, keeping on a straight road. But, for fear that we may overshoot the mark, suppose we make another trial right here."

"Just as you say, Bob," returned Sandy. "You got Pat to tell you lots of things he wouldn't repeat for me. I wonder could it be that leaning tree through there. Seems to me that might be a fine old hive, for it looks hollow enough."

"But you remember Pat said they don't often select a dead tree. It might blow down, and spoil their stock of honey," his brother went on to say.

"But they do find a hollow, don't they?" Sandy inquired.

"Yes; usually the top of a tree that has a hole in it, or a big limb. They are wise enough to know that the rain must be kept out, and also that certain wild animals are mighty fond of honey. Now, here goes, Sandy. Watch close—there!"

Again Bob cast the gorged prisoner free, and the little insect, after several vain efforts, managed to mount upward on sagging wings and make off.

This time as before they marked the last appearance of the laden honey bee, and then a third trial was made. When a fourth and a fifth drew them still deeper into the forest Sandy began to grow much excited. He kept looking all around him while his brother carried out the important operation of coaxing the bee to accept a cargo of sugar sirup in the place of the scarce nectar in the flowers.

All at once Bob looked up.

"Hark!" he exclaimed.

Sandy at once made a move as though about to sling his gun around from his back. Then he saw the smile on his brother's face; and, suspecting the truth, cocked his own head in a listening attitude.

"I hear it!" he exclaimed, his whole face lighting up. "Nothing but the hum of a hive of bees could make that noise, Bob, could it?"

"Look up into that sycamore tree and tell me if you can't see them flying around? Those must be the young ones trying their wings. Pat said they came out every fine day, and buzzed about. He told me he had found more than one bee tree just by tracing the sound. Once heard in the quiet forest it can never be forgotten."

"Hurrah! then we've traced the little rascals to their house!" cried Sandy, as he threw his gun aside, and, clutching the ax, stepped forward to strike the first blow toward cutting down the big tree in which the bees had their hive.

Bob did not try to discourage him, for he knew that when some of this enthusiasm had died away his turn at the chopping would arrive.

And sure enough it did; for Sandy gave out before a quarter of the task had been completed, though later on he would recover his breath and show a willingness to go at it again.

Both lads knew just how to chop a tree so as to lay it where they wished, and, having