The children gave little more thought to the bees, because they were hungry and wanted to have fun off in the woods eating the second lunch that Norah had put up for them. This time no bad boy took the good things, and the six little Bunkers had the cakes and sandwiches for themselves. It was while they were walking along the road on their way home later in the afternoon that the carriage of Dr. Snow passed them. The six little Bunkers had met Dr. Snow a few weeks before, when one of Farmer Joel’s hired men had cut his foot with an axe. The doctor had called at the farmhouse several times and now knew every one from Mun Bun to Russ. Seeing the doctor driving past in a hurry and knowing that by this time Mr. and Mrs. Bunker must be at home, Russ began to wonder if an accident had happened. “Is any one sick at Farmer Joel’s?” called Russ, as the doctor’s carriage drove past. “No, my little man. No, I’m glad to say,” answered Dr. Snow, pulling his horses to a stop. “I’m not going to stop at Farmer Joel’s. I’m on my way to see a peddler boy who lives on the other side of the valley. They telephoned me to come to see him. He has been badly stung by bees.” “Oh, that must be our boy!” cried Rose. “Your boy?” exclaimed the doctor. “I mean the one who took our lunch,” and Rose related the story. “Yes, very likely it’s the same boy,” said the physician, with a smile. “Well, I’ll do the best I can for him. But I think this will be a lesson to him.” The doctor drove on and the six little Bunkers hurried to the house and soon were telling their father and mother all that had happened during the day. “What’s that?” asked Farmer Joel, when he heard the tale. “Some bees came out of the woods and stung the boy, you say?” “You should have heard him yell!” remarked Russ. “Well, I don’t like to see any one hurt,” went on Farmer Joel. “But this story of bees in the woods is a strange one. No swarms have left my hives lately and—say, wait—I have an idea!” he suddenly cried. “Did you see a hollow tree anywhere near the place the bees swarmed out on the boy and stung him?” asked the farmer of Russ. “No,” was the answer. “We weren’t close enough to see a hollow tree. But we could see the bees.” “And we could see the boy dance,” added Laddie. “Hum!” mused Farmer Joel. “It’s just possible now,” he proceeded, “that these bees are the same swarm that went away with my fifty-dollar queen soon after you six little Bunkers arrived. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re my bees, but I’m going to find out for certain. That’s what I’m going to do!” “How can you?” asked Mr. Bunker. “I’ll get your children to show me as nearly as they can the place the bees stung this peddler boy, and I’ll look around there for my missing swarm and the queen. They must have made a home for themselves in some hollow tree, those bees must, and when the boy wandered too near it they swarmed out and stung him, for they thought he was after the honey they had stored there.”