His movements were watched by the others as, with the butt of the pole in his hands, he slipped swiftly round behind the tent. From his place of concealment he thrust the reeking smudge forth toward the hornets’ nest, where a few of the creatures, seemingly on guard, still circled with much angry grumbling. Up against the end of the nest that contained the opening, the smudge was pushed, and the nest itself was practically enveloped in smoke. “Naow come aout, consarn ye, come aout!” cried Crane revengefully. “Mebbe that will cure yeour asthmy and stop yeou from wheezin’.” It was impossible to see whether or not the hornets came forth, but certain it was that, did they attempt to do so, they were promptly overcome by the smoke, for the few that darted and circled in the vicinity were not augmented in number. Some of these, even, apparently making a desperate and reckless charge toward their threatened home, were seen to drop, overcome by the rank smoke. Lowering the butt of the pole to the ground, Stone left the smudge burning against the hornets’ nest and rejoined his watching friends. “We’d better keep watch to see that it doesn’t set fire to the woods,” he said. “By the time it burns out there will not be many hornets left to bother us.” “You’ve got a great head on your shoulders, Stoney, old scout,” complimented Piper. “I wish,” said Crane revengefully, “that I could hold that Dutchman’s nose in that smoke for abaout one minute. I guess he’d cough some.” It was a long time before the smoke of the smudge died down to a tiny, wavering spindle of blueish gray; but when this took place the nest lay there, burned a bit and blackened at one end, a deserted looking thing indeed. If any of the hornets had survived, it seemed that they had departed in desperation or despair. “Who is going to see if there are any left?” asked Sleuth. “I think Sile would be a good one to do that.” “What?” shouted Crane, glaring at the speaker with his unbandaged eye. “What d’yeou mean?” “Why,” said Sleuth innocently, “if there should be any, and you happen to get stung two or three times more, it wouldn’t make much difference. You couldn’t feel a great deal worse.” “Bah!” snarled Sile. “That’s sense, ain’t it? If you get me monkeyin’ round that thing yeou’ll know it, by jinks!” It was Stone who picked up the pole and poked the nest around with it. Although he mutilated that nest, no hornets appeared, and, thrusting the charred, pointed end of the pole into the thing, he carried it away into the woods and left it. “There,” he said, returning triumphantly, “we’re at peace once more.” CHAPTER XIX. THE HERMIT’S CABIN.