"Well, at any rate," said Mr. Allen, as he joined the group after his round of inspection, "the old shanty is chucked full of possibilities." "I'm glad something is full," interrupted Fat. "We certainly aren't in the same class, that cabin and I. It's been so long since I've fed that my floating ribs have run ashore. The worst of it is that all I have left is a can of condensed milk, about a teaspoon of sugar, and a little butter that's a second cousin to what's in that grub box yonder. I'm going to borrow a few possibilities from the cabin and beg for food. Let's have dinner." "Right here by this old rock," called Willis. "Perhaps we can roast a little information out of these rocks." Chuck had gone down stream into a grove of large aspens, and at this moment came panting up the trail. "Bees--peach of a tree--honey galore--millions of them!" he panted. "That sounds like something to eat," cried Fat. "Come along, Chuck, I'm with you. 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.