waving his torch.

Bees were in a crowd about the hole, crawling over each other, and
going in and coming out. Thorn could hear them humming from where he
stood. He swung his torch from his arm; then, hand over hand, up the
tree he went.

When he came to the bees' nest, he threw his leg over a branch. He
swung the smoking stick back and forth. The bees flew off humming
angrily. Thorn quickly broke off the yellow honeycombs and put them
into his bag. Then down the tree he slid, followed by the angry bees.

[Illustration: The bees flew off humming angrily]

"Oh, oh, oh!" he cried, as he ran like a deer. When he went into the
cave with the wild honey, the baby held out her little hands. He gave
her some and said, "You are sweet. You are honey."

So the baby came to be called Honey.

At sundown, the boys went out into the woods to set the traps. A
beautiful mother deer and her fawn were drinking at a brook. Crickets
sang under old bark, and frogs on the edge of the pond. And birds were
singing their low sweet evening songs.

[Illustration: The edge of the pond]

The little hunters went straight on from trap to trap. But they found
no fox or wolf or wildcat in any of them. They were sorry. One trap
was sprung.

"Something has been here, and the meat is gone," said Pineknot. "We
must set the trap again."

Thorn quickly bent down a little hickory, and tied a string to the top.
Then he raised one end of a big rock and put a loop of the string
around it.

Pineknot was busy setting a trigger under the rock. All this time,
Thorn stood by, playing with the string, pulling it and letting it go,
pulling and letting go.

"Listen," he said, "it sings like the wind." Pineknot had a stick in
his hand and, for fun, set it against the string. When Thorn let the
string go, the stick was shot out of Pineknot's hand, and against his
bare body. He yelled, and Thorn opened his eyes in wonder.

[Illustration: And, for fun, set it against the string]

Pineknot rubbed the place, but picked up the stick, stood aside, and
set it as before. Then he said, "Do that again."

Thorn did it again, and the stick flew among the trees. Over and over
again they tried it, and every time the flying string threw the stick.

"Now," said Thorn, "I shall bend a little branch as that tree was bent,
and I shall tie a string to the ends."

He did so; and all the way home he kept shooting with his little bow,
and wondering abou