The boys stared for a moment. Down in the orchard was the hive which their uncle had set apart from the others. It seemed to be torn at the top, and a swarm of angry bees were flying around. Part of the swarm had made for Jack Ness, and now the hired man was running for his life.
“Why, I don’t see how we hit the hive—” commenced Dick, when a yell from Sam interrupted him.
“The bees! The bees! Some of ’em are heading this way!”
“Hi! hi! don’t let ’em fly away!” screamed Randolph Rover. “They are very valuable! Stop them! Make them go back in the hive!”
“Excuse me from touching any bees!” murmured Tom. “I’m going to get out of here!” And he started to run.
“Don’t go to the house!” cried Dick. “We don’t want the ladies and the girls to get stung. Head for the barn!”
His brothers understood, and they scampered at top speed for the nearest barn. In the meantime they could see poor Jack Ness slashing around wildly with a coat he was carrying.
“Git out o’ here, you troublesome critters!” screamed the hired man. “Lemme alone, consarn ye! Oh, my nose! Oh, my eye!” And then he pelted for the vegetable garden. Here he fell over a hot-bed frame and went sprawling. But he soon picked himself up, and then he streaked it down the garden to a patch of corn, gradually outdistancing his little tormentors.
“Say, this is the worst yet!” groaned Tom, and he and his brothers watched the bees from a distance. “However did we happen to hit that hive?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Dick, “unless you put something in the cannon. Did you use stones?”
“No. Did you, Sam?”
“Not a thing but that paper. But we rammed that down rather hard.”
“I don’t think paper would reach to the orchard. Maybe there was something in it. Did you look?”
“No. Come to think of it, it did feel a little hard,” answered Sam.
In a few minutes Randolph Rover appeared, followed by the boys’ father. The man who was making a study of bees had placed a net over his head and donned gloves, and thus equipped he went down to look at the hive. A small corner of the top had been torn away.
“I fancy the bees will settle down before a great while,” said he. “The hive is not much damaged.”
“I am glad to hear that, Uncle Randolph,” said Tom. “I didn’t think that shot would reach so far.”
“Next time you had better point the cannon into the air,” replied the uncle.
“That’s a good idea; we will.”
The cook slept at the top of the house, and awakened by the noise came down to the kitchen to start up the fire. She heard the others discussing the discharge of the cannon and mention the damage done to the bee hive. Then she looked around the kitchen and suddenly gave a scream.
“My pocketbook! Where is my pocketbook?”
“Your pocketbook?” asked Sam, who had come around to the kitchen to wash his hands. “Where did you leave it?”
“I had it on that side table. It was wrapped in an old newspaper. I was going to take it up to my room last night and hide it, but I forgot.”
“That newspaper!” ejaculated Sam, and turned slightly pale. “If you had it in that newspaper it was your pocketbook that shot the top off that bee hive!”
CHAPTER XI
A DAY TO REMEMBER
“Great Cicero, is it possible we have shot the cook’s pocketbook to pieces!” murmured Dick, who had come up in time to hear the conversation.
“Shoot it! Did you shoot at my pocketbook?” demanded Sarah.
“We didn’t shoot at it, Sarah,” answered Sam. “I stuffed that paper in the cannon for wadding.”
“What, with my pocketbook in it!” screamed the cook. “Oh, dear! Was ever there such boys!”
“I didn’t know there was anything in the paper. It looked all crumpled up.”
“It was the best paper I could find and I thought it would do,” groaned Sarah. “Oh, dear, what am I to do? Where is the pocketbook now?”
“Blown to kingdom come, I reckon,” murmured the youngest Rover. “But never mind, I’ll buy you a new one.”
“The pocketbook couldn’t have been a very large one,” said Tom, who had come up to learn the cause of the excitement in the kitchen.
“It wasn’t—it was quite small. My sister sent it to me from Chicago, for a birthday present.”
“What did you have in it?” asked Sam anxiously.
“I had four dollars in it in bills, and ten of those new shiny cents, and a ten-cent piece, and a sample of dress goods, and a slip of paper with a new way on it to make grape jelly, and some pills for the headache, and a motto verse, and—and I don’t know what else.”
“Well, that’s enough,” came from Tom. “No wonder the bees kicked at having all that fired at ’em.”
“I’ll give you back the money, Sarah, and get you a new pocketbook,” said Sam. “I’m awfully sorry it happened.”
“Let’s look for the pocketbook,” suggested Dick, and this was done, the boys taking good care, while on the search, to keep out of the range of the bees. All they could find in the orchard were two of the cent pieces and part of the metal clasp of the pocketbook—the rest had disappeared.
“Well, let us be thankful that we didn’t blow the cannon apart, or hit somebody with that charge,” said Dick.
Later the cannon was fired off with more care. It certainly made a loud noise, and a farmer, driving past, said he had heard it away down at Oak Run.
“A feller down there told me he guessed the quarry men were blastin’,” he said. “But I said ’twas a cannon. She kin go some, can’t she!” And he shook his head grimly as he drove on.
The boys and girls spent the morning in firing off the cannon and in shooting off some firecrackers. Mrs. Rover served an elaborate dinner, and had the dining room trimmed in red, white and blue flowers in honor of the national birthday.
“Do you remember how we spent last Fourth,” said Tom, when the meal was about over.
“Indeed I do!” cried Nellie. “Don’t you remember that big imitation cannon cracker you set off on the dining room table of the yacht and how it covered all of us with confetti.”
“Yes, and how Hans Mueller slid under the table in fright!” added Dick; and then all laughed heartily over an affair that I have already described in detail in “The Rover Boys on Treasure Isle.”
“Dear old Hans!” murmured Tom. “I’d like first rate to see him this summer.”
“Let us ask him to the farm for a week,” suggested Sam.
“All right, we will, along with Fred Garrison,” answered Dick.
During the afternoon the boys and girls played croquet and took a short ride in the touring car, and had ice-cream and cake served to them under the trees by Aleck Pop, who wore his waiter outfit for the occasion. Then they sat around until it was dark, and after supper the boys brought forth the fireworks.
“Now, be careful,” warned both their father and their uncle.
“We will be!” they cried, and set off the pieces from a field where they could not possibly do harm. The girls and the ladies, as well as the men, watched proceedings with interest.
“Oh, how grand!” cried Dora, as the rockets curved gracefully through the air.
“Beautiful!” murmured Grace.
“I could look at fireworks all night!” declared Nellie.
The fireworks came to an end with a set piece called Uncle Sam. It fizzed and flared brightly, showing the well-known face of the old man and the big hat. Then Tom commenced to pull a wire and Uncle Sam took his hat off and put it on.
“Oh, how cute!” cried Grace.
“Last act!” cried Tom, and set fire to a slow match that was near. Presently some flower pots commenced to send up a golden shower, and then, from a wire between
two trees there blazed forth the words “Good Night.”
“Well, that was very nice indeed!” was Mrs. Stanhope’s comment.
“As nice an exhibition of fireworks as I ever saw,” declared Mrs. Laning.
“Just what I say!” cried Mrs. Rover. “The boys certainly know how to get up a show!”
After the fireworks came darkness, but neither the boys nor the girls seemed to mind this. They paired off, and took walks around the house and down the roadway. Perhaps a good many silly things were said, but, if so, there was no harm in them. The only ones who were really serious were Dick and Dora, and seeing this Tom nudged Nellie in the side.
“Looks like they were getting down to business, doesn’t it?” he observed, dryly.
“Oh, Tom, hush, they might hear you!” she whispered.
“You’ll have Dick for a cousin-in-law some day.”
“Well, I shan’t mind.”
“How about having him for a brother-in-law, Nellie?”
At this suggestion Nellie’s face grew crimson.
“Tom Rover, you’re the limit!”
“Well, how about it?” he persisted.
“You mean if Sam should marry Grace?” she asked archly.
“Not much—although that may happen too. I mean if you should condescend to marry such a harum-scarum chap like me.”
“Oh, Tom!” And now Nellie hid her face.
“Maybe you don’t like me, Nellie.”
“Why, Tom!”
“You know how much I like you. It’s been that way ever since we met on the Cedarville steamer. I know I’m pretty young to talk this way, but—”
“You’ll get older, eh?”
“Yes, and I don’t want any other fellow to come around—when I’m away.”
“How about some other girl coming around when I’m away?”
“There can’t be any other girl, Nellie.”
“Are you sure?” And now Nellie looked quite in earnest.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well then—” her voice sank very low. “There can’t be any other fellow! There!”
“Nellie!” he cried. Then he would have caught her in his arms, but she held him back.
“Wait, Tom. I understand, and I am very, very glad,” she said, earnestly. “But mamma—she is a little bit old-fashioned, you know. She made both of us—Grace and I—promise not to—to become engaged until we were twenty or twenty-one.”
“Oh!”
“So we’ll have to wait a little longer.”
“I see. But we understand each other, don’t we, Nellie?”
“Yes, I’m sure we do.”
“And when you are old enough—”
“We’ll talk it over again,” she answered, and took his arm as if to walk back to the others.
“All right,” he said. Then of a sudden he turned and faced her. “And is that all?” he pleaded.
“Oh, Tom, it ought to be!” she murmured.
“But, Nellie!” he pleaded, and drew her a little closer. Then for just an instant her head went down on his shoulder and she allowed him to kiss her. Then they joined the others, both feeling as if they were walking on air.
An hour later found everybody either in the house or on the veranda. Dora sat down to the piano and the other young folks gathered around to sing one favorite song after another, while the old folks listened. They sang some of the Putnam Hall songs, and tried several that were popular at Brill and at Hope.
“I like that even better than the fireworks,” murmured Mrs. Stanhope, to Anderson Rover.
“Well, I think I do, myself, Mrs. Stanhope,” he answered. And then he drew his rocking-chair a little closer to where the widow was sitting. “It seems to me that Dick and Dora match it off pretty well,” he continued, in a lower tone.
“Yes, Mr. Rover. And Dick is a fine young man—your sons are all fine young men. I shall never forget what they have done for me and for Dora.”
“Well, they are bright lads, if I do say it myself,” answered the father, proudly. “And let me say, too, that I think Dora is a very dear girl. I shall be proud to take her for a daughter.”
“No prouder than I shall be to take Dick for a son, Mr. Rover.”
“I am glad to hear you say that—glad that the idea is agreeable all around,” returned Anderson Rover.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if, some day, Nellie and Grace married your other sons.”
“Possibly. But they are rather young yet to think of that. Dick is older, even though they go to college together. You see, he got behind a little at Putnam Hall because, when I was sick, he had to attend to a lot of business for me. But he is going ahead fast now. He came out at the head of his class.”
“So Dora told me. Oh, he will make his mark in the world, I am sure of it.”
“If he does not, it will be his own fault. I shall give him as much of an education as he desires, and when he wishes to go into business, or a profession, I shall furnish him with all the money he may need. I am going to do that for all of the boys—that is, unless the bottom should drop out of everything and I should become poor.”
“Oh, Mr. Rover, I trust you do not anticipate anything of that sort!”
“No, at present my investments are safe. But one cannot tell what may happen. Hard times come, banks break, railroads default on their bonds, and a man is knocked out before he knows it. But I don’t look for those things to happen.”
“Mr. Rover, before I leave I wish to ask your advice about that fortune we brought home from Treasure Isle.”
“What about it?”
“Do you think I ought to invest the money, or keep it intact and wait to see what that Tad Sobber does?”
“I should invest it, if I were you. I really can’t see how Sobber has any claim.”
“Would you be willing to invest it for me? A large part of it really belongs to Dora, you know. I am not much of a business woman, and I would be glad if you would help me in the matter.”
“Certainly I will help you to invest, if you wish it,” answered Anderson Rover.
“Can I send the money to you?”
“Yes, But wait till I send you word. I want to look over the various offerings in securities first.”
At that moment came a call from the parlor. The young folks wanted the old folks to come in and join in the singing, and they complied. As they left the piazza a form that had been hiding behind some bushes nearby slunk away. The form was that of Tad Sobber.
“Thought I’d hear something if I came here,” muttered that individual to himself. “Going to turn the fortune over to old Rover to invest, eh? Not much! not if I can get my hands on it!”
And then Tad Sobber disappeared down the road in the darkness.
CHAPTER XII
OFF FOR CAMP
All too quickly for the girls and the boys, the visit of the folks from Cedarville to Valley Brook farm came to an end. During the week the boys took the girls on several trips in the touring car, and once all went for a picnic up the Swift river.
“You must write to us often, Dick,” said Dora, on parting. “If you go camping, tell us all the particulars.”
“I certainly will, Dora,” he answered. “And you let me know all about what you are doing. And don’t forget to urge your mother to take a trip somewhere.”
The boys had already written to their former school chums and fellow travelers, Fred Garrison and Hans Mueller, and those boys had written back that they would arrive at the farm, with an outfit for camping, on the following Saturday.
“That will just suit!” cried Sam. “We can rest up over Sunday and start for camp Monday morning.”
“I’m anxious to see what Hans will bring,” came from Tom, who was perusing a long communication from the German American youth. “He seems to have the
notion that this outing is to last into cold weather, and that we are going to hunt bears and lions and a few other wild beasts.”
“Oh, maybe he is only trying to be funny,” answered Sam.
“Hans is funny without trying to be,” put in Dick. “Just the same, he is one of the best boys in the world.”
Fred Garrison and Hans Mueller had arranged to arrive at Oak Run on the same train, and the Rover boys went to meet them as they had the folks from Cedarville, in the new touring car.
“Here she comes!” cried Sam, as the distant whistle of the locomotive reached their ears. Then the train hove in sight and they saw Fred’s head sticking out of one window and Hans’ head, out of another.
“Hello, Fred! How are you, Hans!” was the cry.
“Say, is this really the station?” asked Fred, with a grin. “I’ve been watching milk depots for the last hour.”
“This is really and truly the metropolis of Oak Run!” sang out Tom. “Move lively now, or you’ll be carried further.”
The two young travelers alighted, each with two suit-cases. In addition Fred carried a fishing rod. Hans was loaded down with a fishing rod, a shotgun, a big box camera, and a bundle done up in a steamer robe.
“Hello, Hans, did you just come across the Atlantic?” questioned Dick, as the boys shook hands all around.
“Atlantic?” repeated Hans Mueller. “Not much I didn’t, Dick; I come from home, chust so straight like der railroad runs alretty.”
“You brought a few things along I see.”
“Sure I did. Vy not, of ve go camping by der voods? I got my fishing shtick, and my gun, and a planket, and a camera to took vild animals.”
“Going to take their pictures first and then slay ’em, eh?” remarked Tom.
“Dot’s it.”
“Got your license, I suppose.”
“License. Vot license?”
“To snap-shot the lions and tigers and bears, Hans. It costs two dollars and ten cents to snap-shot a bear now, and lions and tigers are a dollar and forty-five.”
“Vot?” gasped the German boy. “Do da make you bay to took pictures?”
“Why, didn’t you know that? I thought you read the new patent and copyright laws.”
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