"So am I."

"By gum, you're celebratin' all right!" came from Jack Ness, as he poked his head from behind a tree. "I guess they must have heard that clear down to the Corners."

"Further than that!" replied Tom.

"Oh, Tom, did you do that?" came a voice from an upper window, and Nellie showed her face.

"What an awful noise!" came from another window, as Dora appeared.

"Did it wake you up?" cried Tom.

"It made me bounce right out of bed!" declared Nellie. "I thought I was shot."

"I thought the house had been hit," said Dora.

"Did your cannon burst?" questioned Grace, as she appeared beside Nellie.

"Not a bit of it!" declared Tom. "Just listen, while we fire another shot."

"Oh, Tom, wait till I put some cotton in my ears!" cried Mrs. Rover, as she showed herself, followed by the others.

"Boys, you didn't shoot off anything in the cannon, did you?" asked Randolph Rover, nervously.

"Nothing but powder and paper, Uncle," answered Sam.

"That ain't so!" suddenly shouted Jack Ness. "By gum! You hit the bee hive, an' here come the bees! Gee, shoo! Git out! Oh, my! I'm stung!" And he started to run from the orchard.

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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k, "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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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 d.i.c.k, 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."