the sleepers awoke on the instant, and scrambled to their feet.
"great scott! what was that?" cried bob somers.
"jiminy crickets!" exclaimed dave.
"grab your guns!" yelled havens.
several timbers fell with a loud clatter, and the lantern, dashed to the floor, promptly went out. then a dark form crashed through the roof, flopping heavily on its back, while a series of savage growls and whines made the boys cower back in the darkest part of the cave.
"a bear!" shouted jim havens, "and a whopper."
dick travers, who had left his gun in front, was panic-stricken at the idea of being bottled up. out in the open, he would at least have a chance in flight.
the pale moonlight, streaming through the window, revealed the animal pinioned beneath heavy timbers. now was his chance. with a yell, dick darted forward, and just as he did so, bruin rolled over on his feet.
dick travers' terror lent him strength. bounding forward, he grazed the animal's back, brought up against the blanket, tore it from its fastenings, then stumbled at full length outside the door.
bruin, no doubt astonished and alarmed at his own mishap and the commotion which followed, uttered another roar and turned tail.
just as dick travers scrambled to his feet, a huge black body dashing by knocked him flat, and the boy let out a yell which could have been heard a mile.
the moon had risen above a belt of timber, throwing a silvery light over the landscape, and it showed the bear getting away at surprising speed.
the three boys who remained in the cave quickly recovered their wits.
"after him!" cried havens, loudly.
bob was first at the entrance. raising his rifle, he sent a bullet speeding toward the retreating form. then havens' gun echoed sharply, but it was evident that neither shot took effect.
"well, well," panted the poet. "a nice little surprise, eh? hurt, dick?"
"not a bit of it, dave." dick's tones spoke of a troubled spirit. his companions were looking at him slyly.
"ever take a prize in jumping?" asked havens. "i'd bet on you, all right."
"i might as well admit it—he got my nerve," said dick, frankly.
"don't let it worry you, old man," said the "poet," laughingly.
"what do you suppose the old duffer was up to?" asked bob.
"guess he thought things looked kinder funny 'round here, so he walked up the tree and stepped on the roof. it's a beautiful mess, now isn't it?"
"a good day's work to fix it," commented bob.
"think the bear is likely to come back?" queried dick.
"not after the scare you gave him," grinned havens. "still, to be on the safe side, we'll take turns on guard."
this arrangement was agreed to, but the rest of the night passed without incident.
after breakfast, the boys decided to work on the hut. bob somers and dick travers climbed to the roof and began to remove the loose boards.
"work, you fellows, work," said dave, as he lay indolently on a bit of turf. "i'll help with advice."
"all right, chub," laughed bob.
"don't think i will, either—i'll paint a sketch."
"good," cried dick. "good."
havens, axe and saw in hand, had gone off to the woods to get material, and the sounds which came from the timber indicated that he must be hard at work.
dave got out his paint box and, seated turk fashion before a canvas, began to squint dreadfully.
"hey there, who are you making faces at?" asked dick.
"oh, of course you don't understand," said dave brandon, loftily. "that's to shut out the detail. all artists do it. you ought to see professor mead when he paints."
"glad i don't have to, if he puts on such a face as that."
"it's worse."
"it couldn't be. hello, what's up?"
havens was heard to shout—then a second cry came from the woods.
"more bears, i wonder?" exclaimed bob.
"sounds as if he was running like sixty," cried dick. "here he comes. what in thunder's the matter? did you catch what he said?"
"no."
bob hastily lowered himself to the ground, and the three boys started toward the rapidly advancing figure.
then it was seen that jim havens' head was surrounded by a dancing cloud of insects.
"get some pine-knots," yelled the fugitive, slapping wildly at his tormentors. "ouch! stir yourselves—beat 'em off—help!"
"bees!" cried dave. "bugville to the front."
all signs of laziness instantly disappeared. he jumped nimbly to his feet, and rushed, with the others, to the fire, where several half-consumed sticks were smouldering.
havens arrived in their midst. so did the bees. they acted with charming impartiality.
dick travers slapped his cheek. "i'm stung first!" he yelled. "ouch—wow—great cæsar!"
"welcome to the honor," said dave. "thunderation! oh—oh! by the flying partridge, that hurts!"
smoking sticks began to describe half circles and other curves in the air. the boys danced wildly, and hit right and left, up and down, all the while uttering exclamations, as numerous sharp stings were received from the angry insects.
"take that—and that!" panted dave. "you will tackle my painting hand, eh?"
"give it to them!" yelled bob.
the battle raged furiously, but at length, unable to withstand the onslaught, the insects suddenly buzzed away, leaving not a few of their number slain on the field.
"oh, my—look at bob's nose," snickered dick.
"you ought to feel it."
"i'm satisfied with getting it in the neck;" and travers tenderly placed his hand on a huge bump behind the ear.
"three stings on one cheek is about enough, isn't it?" asked dave.
"what did we ever do to you, jim?" asked bob, reproachfully. "it'll take a lot of explaining."
"oh, i say," whispered dick, "who's got that book—'first aid to the injured'? trot it out, somebody."
"it's missing," said dave.
"how's that?"
"because nobody brought it."
dick groaned. "nice way to make a book useful," he said. "what'll we do?"
"pooh—you fellows haven't got any stings," broke in havens. he held out his hands ruefully. "must have been about a thousand buzzing 'round me. honest—i couldn't handle them alone. lucky i brought something to——"
"oh, say that again," cried dick, hopefully. "you brought something along, eh?—quick!"
jim dived for his canvas bag, and took out a bottle.
"smells like a drug store," said bob, "but dish it out."
in a few minutes the smarting was somewhat allayed.
"jim, you have a head," said dick, admiringly. "did you expect this to happen?"
"sure! anything's liable to happen in the woods."
"what else have you?"
"something for snake bites and poison ivy."
"great head! anything for panther bites and bear hugs?"
"and now, havens," interrupted bob, "we want to know how this happened."
"well, i came across an old hollow tree back there—bees hang out in such places, you know."
"do they?" said dick, with tremendous sarcasm.
"as luck would have it, my hatchet fell plumb in the hole—then i strolled over to tell you about it."
"next time, jim," said dave, "you have our permission to do all your strolling in the opposite direction. but," he added, brightening up, "maybe there's some honey over there."
"light some pine-knots, and we'll soon find out," said havens.
his directions were put into effect, and in a few minutes they reached the hollow tree.
havens began operations by hurling a stone.
"watch 'em," he said.
the angry insects buzzed forth, but were easily put to flight by the blazing torches. then vigorous blows from jim havens' hatchet sent the chips flying.
a cheer broke forth, when a great quantity of honey was disposed to view.
"bet there's fifty pounds in there," said dick, gleefully.
"um—um," exclaimed dave. "for breakfast, dinner and supper."
"you'll be um—umming more when you taste it," said bob, slyly.
back to the dugout for pans and dishes they tramped. these were soon filled to the brim with the most delicious honey. the four proceeded to enjoy some at once, and it was quite a while before work was resumed.
the slender maples which havens had cut were then dragged to camp. these were nailed about six inches apart over the hole in the roof and a quantity of fir brush interwoven. a rough door was next fashioned out of the remaining saplings, and their work was done.
late in the afternoon, the four, guns in hand, started off after game. in the course of an hour, they were a considerable distance from the dugout, skirting along the edge of a precipice.
dick travers, in advance of the others, caught a glimpse of some animal skulking through the underbrush straight ahead. with visions of securing a pelt worth while, he stole steadily forward.
"as i live, it's a fox," he murmured, excitedly. "gee, i must get a crack at that."
flinging caution to the winds, dick leaped rapidly forward. suddenly a cry of alarm escaped his lips.
rushing full tilt through a mass of vegetation, he saw a yawning crevice, a sort of crack extending backward from the face of the cliff, before him. his impetus was too great to be checked, and dick gave a gasp of horror, as he felt himself sliding over the edge.
