[Illustration:  “Jack ate till his paunch looked like A rubber balloon”]

Lan’s nearest neighbor was Lou Bonamy, an ex-cowboy and sheep-herder, now a prospecting miner.  He lived, with his dog, in a shanty about a mile below Kellyan’s shack.  Bonamy had seen Jack “perform on a bee-crew.”  And one day, as he came to Kellyan’s, he called out:  “Lan, bring Jack here and we’ll have some fun.”  He led the way down the stream into the woods.  Kellyan followed him, and Jacky waddled at Kellyan’s heels, sniffing once in a while to make sure he was not following the wrong pair of legs.

“There, Jacky, honey—­honey!” and Bonamy pointed up a tree to an immense wasps’ nest.

Jack cocked his head on one side and swung his nose on the other.  Certainly those things buzzing about looked like bees, though he never before saw a bees’ nest of that shape, or in such a place.

But he scrambled up the trunk.  The men waited—­Lan in doubt as to whether he should let his pet cub go into such danger, Bonamy insisting it would be a capital joke “to spring a surprise” on the little Bear.  Jack reached the branch that held the big nest high over the deep water, but went with increasing caution.  He had never seen a bees’ nest like this; it did not have the right smell.  Then he took another step forward on the branch—­what an awful lot of bees; another step—­still they were undoubtedly bees; he cautiously advanced a foot—­and bees mean honey; a little farther—­he was now within four feet of the great paper globe.  The bees hummed angrily and Jack stepped back, in doubt.  The men giggled; then Bonamy called softly and untruthfully:  “Honey—­Jacky—­honey!”

[Illustration:  “‘Honey—­Jacky—­honey’”]

The little Bear, fortunately for himself, went slowly, since in doubt; he made no sudden move, and he waited a long time, though urged to go on, till the whole swarm of bees had reentered their nest.  Now Jacky jerked his nose up, hitched softly out a little farther till right over the fateful paper globe.  He reached out, and by lucky chance put one horny little paw-pad over the hole; his other arm grasped the nest, and leaping from the branch he plunged headlong into the pool below, taking the whole thing with him.  As soon as he reached the water his hind feet were seen tearing into the nest, kicking it to pieces; then he let it go and struck out for the shore, the nest floating in rags down-stream.  He ran alongside till the comb lodged against a shallow place, then he plunged in again; the wasps were drowned or too wet to be dangerous, and he carried his prize to the bank in triumph.  No honey; of course, that was a disappointment, but there were lots of fat white grubs—­almost as good—­and Jack ate till his paunch looked like a little rubber balloon.

“How is that?” chuckled Lan.

“The laugh is on us,” answered Bonamy, with a grimace.