The boys did not stop to see who gave the advice. It seemed good to follow, and they did. Regardless of their clothes, which were of light weight, easily dried, they ran toward the lake, wading in until it was deep enough to duck under.

As for Blake, he did not wait for that, but, wildly brushing his hands about his head, in he plunged, face foremost as soon as the water was up to his knees. And his head went well under.

“That’s the only way to get rid of hornets when they once take after you,” went on the voice of one who had given the good advice. “They can’t sting under water.”

The girls peered from the tent to see approaching one Reuben—his other name they had never asked. He worked for a near-by farmer, and had often brought butter, eggs and occasionally chickens, when the campers did not get them from the regular storekeepers.

“Oh, look how Reuben is dressed up!” exclaimed Mabel.

“He must be going to the circus, or somewhere,” added Alice.

“Probably he’s going to the ‘city’, wherever that is up here,” declared Marie. “Oh, but look at Jack!”

The three chums, after floundering about in the water, had now ventured to raise their heads, but Jack appeared not to have quite freed himself of the pestiferous insects so rudely disturbed, and after getting a needful breath of air he had to duck under the water again.

Blake had reached a deep place and was swimming down the lake, making rather slow progress because of his clothes. He came presently to a little point, swam in until his feet could touch bottom, and then, cautiously waiting to see if any of the hornets were about, and hearing none, ventured to go ashore.

Phil, too, had managed to get rid of his guard of honor, and was approaching the little gravelly beach. But Jack seemed to have more than his share.

“I’ll fix you for this, Phil, when I——” he began, and then he had to get beneath the water again.

“Swim up the shore a bit, duck down and I guess they’ll leave you,” called Blake, and Jack, catching at least the drift of the advice, if not all the words, did so. Soon three dripping figures stood on shore, cautiously listening for the hum of the hornets’ wings.

“I—I guess they’re gone,” said Phil slowly, as he looked at a rapidly swelling wrist.

“They ought to,” said Blake. “The next time you throw a stone at a hornets’ nest we’ll make you stay and apologize. I’m stung in half a dozen places!”

“So am I,” declared Jack. “What’s good for the bites?”

“They don’t bite, they sting,” Reuben informed them as he tied the boat in which he had arrived, and walked up to the tents. “If they’ve left their stinger in it’s worse, too.”

“How do you tell that?” Jack wanted to know.

“You rub your finger over the place, and if it hurts more than when you don’t rub it, and if it feels like there was a sliver in it, that’s the sting. Or you can see it with a magnifying glass. I worked for a feller once that kept bees, and I got stung regular. They say it’s good for rheumatism,” he added cheerfully.

“Give me the rheumatism,” said Blake as he tenderly felt of a swelling on his cheek. “Say, maybe they didn’t come for us!”

“Are they gone?” demanded Natalie, peering from between the tightly-held tent-flaps.

“Pretty much,” replied Jack. “C?sar’s pineapples! How they hurt though!”

“Be careful, girls,” cautioned Mrs. Bonnell. But a little observation told them that the hornets had gone back to repair the damage done by Phil’s stone thoughtlessly tossed into their nest.

“What do you do for the stings?” asked Blake of the farm lad.

“I always puts mud on ’em.”

“Ammonia is better,” volunteered Mrs. Bonnell. “Wait and I’ll get you boys some. I have a bottle of the strongest kind for my little pistol.”

“I wish we’d had that when they came at us,” murmured Phil, clasping a wrist that was rapidly getting to be twice its natural size.

The ammonia made the stings feel a little less painful, and then the boys went back to their camp to don dry clothes.

“I wonder if they found any evidence of those who have been helping themselves to things in our camp?” observed Natalie, as she and her companions left the large tent.

“We’ll ask them later,” said Marie.

“Have you folks been missing things?” asked Reuben, as he overheard the talk.

“Yes,” answered Alice, “Whom do you think could have taken the stuff?”

“It’s them Gypsies!” declared Reuben. “Lots of folks around here are complainin’ of missing things. Not only the farmers but some cottagers and campers. Them Gypsies ought to be driven away. They’re a regular nuisance comin’ here every year.”

“But where are they?” asked Mabel.

“Over at Bear Pond, some one told me. Did you girls find it that day all right?”

“Oh, yes—we found it,” answered M............