he could. He clawed himself around boldly to
the front of the tree, plunged one greedy paw straight into the heart
of the hive, snatched forth a big, dripping, crawling comb, and fell to
munching it up as fast as possible--honey, bees, brood-comb, bee-bread,
all together indiscriminately. The distracted bees paid him no more
attention. They were too busy filling their honey sacks."

The Babe smacked his lips. He was beginning to get pretty hungry
himself.

"Well," continued Uncle Andy, "Teddy Bear chewed and chewed, finally
plunging his whole head into the sticky mess--getting a few stings, of
course, but never thinking of them--till he was just so gorged that he
couldn't hold another morsel. Then, very slowly and heavily, grunting
all the time, he climbed down the bee tree. He felt that he wanted to
go to sleep. When he reached the bottom he sat up on his haunches to
look around for some sort of a snug corner. His eyelids were swollen
with stings, but his little round stomach was swollen with honey, so he
didn't care a cent. His face was all daubed with honey, and earth, and
leaves, and dead bees. His whole body was a sight. And his claws were
so stuck up with honey and rotten wood and bark that he kept opening
and shutting them like a baby who has got a feather stuck to its
fingers and doesn't know what to do with it, But he was too sleepy to
bother about his appearance. He just waddled over to a sort of nook
between the roots of the next tree, curled up with his sticky nose
between his sticky paws, and was soon snoring."

"And did he ever get out of that deep hole?" inquired the Babe, always
impatient of the abrupt way in which Uncle Andy was wont to end his
stories.

"Of course he got out. He climbed out," answered Uncle Andy. "Do you
suppose a bear like that could be kept shut up long? And now I think
we might be getting out, too! I don't hear any more humming outside,
so I reckon the coast's about clear."

He peered forth cautiously.

"It's all right. Come along," he said. "And there's my pipe at the
foot of the rock, just where I dropped it," he added, in a tone of
great satisfaction. Then, with mud-patched, swollen faces, and crooked
but cheerful smiles, the two refugees emerged into the golden light of
the afternoon, and stretched themselves. But, as Uncle Andy surveyed
first the Babe and then himself in the unobstructed light, his smile
faded.

"I'm afraid Bill's going to have the