Now other bees began to join the first one, till there was quite a little swarm headed for a hollow pine—a great, gaunt tree that had been hollowed out by lightning and now stood, scarred and blackened, on the top of a hillock. “It’s a pretty good world, after all,” Twinkly Eyes decided, as he ambled up the slope. [Illustration: [Bees]] XVII TWINKLY EYES AND TROUBLE “Yes, sir, it’s a pretty good world after all,” mused Twinkly Eyes, the little Black Bear, as he neared the bee tree. Certainly everything about him promised a blissful day. Warblers sung happily from every treetop, swallowtail butterflies danced above the wild rose bushes, and puffy white clouds shadowed the blue of the sky. There was just enough breeze to feel good as it ruffled his glossy fur. Then too, blueberries were nearly ripe, and the fragrance of wild grape vines promised delights to come. But best of all was that heavy hum of a thousand bees carrying their golden honey into the hollow pine tree. It was a tall old pine that had once been struck by lightning. One side was scored and blackened; near the top was a small dark hole, into which the returning bees poured steadily, while others poured steadily out again. And oh! The wonderful odor that came from that hole! How it made his mouth water! There was nothing whatever to indicate that trouble might be near. Now Twinkly Eyes had been in his mother’s charge the first time he had climbed a bee tree, and thanks to her warnings he had escaped unstung. It seemed to him now, as he thought of that wonderful day, that his mother had been altogether more cautious than there was any need of being. But, no sooner had his claws begun to rattle upon the trunk of the hollow pine than the buzzing grew louder, and it seemed to Twinkly Eyes that there was a new note in it, quite different from the contented hum he had heard before. In fact, he began to wonder if there might be trouble after all. Still, he was not one to give up at this point! The sweet comb would be worth a lot of trouble! He scrambled faster, till one paw clutched the edge of the hole. Instantly the bees had settled thick upon his coat, trying their best to ram their red-hot stings into his glossy fur, but it was too thick for them, and Twinkly minded not at all. Suddenly a red-hot needle struck him on the lip. “Hoof—woof!” he protested, licking the burnt place. It hurt dreadfully. Another needle pricked him, this time on the tip of his protruding tongue. This time Twinkly slapped so angrily that he flattened the bee, but it didn’t help his tongue, and his lip began to swell. But there was no time to think about that. As he reached for a better hold, his paw tore a strip of the rotten bark away, and he had to shut his eyes and cover his nose with his paw while the angry swarm darted about his head in a buzzing fury.