"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 noice 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
