. Do you know how to make that 'milk and honey' that the Good
Book speaks about? I've got the milk, let's get the honey." Ham, Chuck,
and Fat started for the bee tree, Ham singing his favorite, "A Preacher
went a Huntin'."
"Better let up, Ham," shouted Phil. "The bees will be after the sweetness
in that melody of yours."
Phil stretched out at full length in the sun while Mr. Allen busily
made figures and sketches in his note book. Willis rose and started
down the trail toward the bee tree. At the edge of the timber he stopped,
and a curious smile spread over his face. Then suddenly, as the real
significance of what he saw dawned upon him, he doubled up with a howl
and laughed till his sides hurt.
The fellows were unable to roll over the great dead tree, so had decided
to "smudge the brutes out," as Ham said. Accordingly, they built a fire
at the side where the bees had been seen to enter the tree. Chuck had
carried water from the stream in his hat to make the fire smoke, and, as
they watched the hole, the bees came swarming out at the end of the log
behind them, "with spears sharpened and ready for action," as Ham
afterward said. Such lively gymnastics and hurried departures Willis had
never before witnessed. Fat completely forgot that he was hungry, and Ham
took occasion to severely chastise himself, using his old felt hat for a
paddle, while Chuck went ploughing through the underbrush like a young
bull-moose, murmuring strange, inarticulate sentences. Fortunately for
them all, the bee tree was nothing but a nest of marsh-wasps, and there
were nowhere near as many as Chuck declared there were. The damage was
slight to all except Fat, and he had enough signs of battle to warrant a
leather medal for bravery. The saddest thing was that the hoped-for "milk
and honey" did not materialize.
As the party sat together eating the last of their rations, Ham fell into
one of his philosophical moods.
"I like this kind of life," he began. "Out here you let go your hold on
man-made things and shift for yourself." He looked cautiously over at
Fat, who was trying to scratch a particularly itchy sting just out of
reach in the middle of his back. "I like the unchanging condition of
nature," he continued. "The wilderness is all yours, and you may take
from it all the essentials of primitive living--shelter, warmth, and
food."
"Ham, you're an unmitigated prevaricator," cried Fat as he scratched and
made faces. Ham paid no atte
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