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CHAPTER XXIV BORROWED FOR A BEE HUNT WE were
eating breakfast one morning
late in August that summer when through
an open window a queer, cracked voice addressed the old Squire: "Don't
want to disturb ye at
your meals, Squire, but I've come over to see if I can't borry a boy to
hark
fer me." It was old
Hughy Glinds, who lived
alone in a little cabin at the edge of the great woods, and who gained
a
livelihood by making baskets and snowshoes, lining bees and turning
oxbows. In
his younger days he had been a noted trapper, bear hunter and moose
hunter, but
now he was too infirm and rheumatic to take long tramps in the woods. The old
Squire went to the door.
"Come in, Glinds," he said. "No,
Squire, I don't believe I
will while ye're eatin'. I jest wanted to see if I could borry one of
yer boys
this forenoon. I've got a swarm of bees lined over to whar the
old-growth woods
begin, and if I'm to git 'em I've got to foller my line on amongst tall
trees
and knock; and lately, Squire, I'm gettin' so blamed deaf I snum I
can't hear a
bee buzz if he's right close to my head! So I come over to see if I
could git a
boy to go with me and hark when I knock on the trees." "Why, yes,
Glinds," said
the old Squire, "one of the boys may go with you. That is, he may if he
wants to," he added, turning to us. Addison
said that he had something
else he wished to do that forenoon. Halstead and I both offered our
services;
but for some reason old Glinds decided that I had better go.
Grandmother Ruth
objected at first and went out to talk with the old fellow. "I'm afraid
you'll let him get stung or let a tree fall on him!" she said. Old Hughy
tried to reassure her.
"I'll be keerful of him, marm. I promise ye, marm, the boy shan't be
hurt.
I'm a-goin' to stifle them bees, marm, and pull out all their
stingers."
And the old man laughed uproariously. Grandmother
Ruth shook her head
doubtfully; old Hughy's reputation for care and strict veracity was not
of the
best. When I
went to get ready for the
jaunt grandmother charged me to be cautious and not to go into any
dangerous
places, and before I left the house she gave me a pair of gloves and an
old
green veil to protect my head. Before
starting for the woods we had
to go to old Hughy's cabin to get two pails for carrying the honey and
a kettle
and a roll of brimstone for "stifling" the bees. As we passed the
Murch farm the old man told me that he had tried to get Willis, who
stood
watching us in the dooryard, to go with him to listen for the bees.
"But
what do you think!" he exclaimed with assumed indignation. "That
covetous little whelp wouldn't stir a step to help me unless I'd agree
to give
him half the honey! So I came to git you, for of course I knowed that
as noble
a boy as I've heered you be wouldn't act so pesky covetous as that." Getting
the tin pails, the kettle
and the brimstone together with an axe and a compass at the old man's
cabin, we
went out across the fields and the pastures north of the Wilbur farm to
the
borders of the woods through which old Hughy wanted to follow the bees. A line of
stakes that old Hughy had
set up across the open land marked the direction in which the bees had
flown to
the forest. After taking our bearings from them by compass we entered
the
woods and went on from one large tree to another. Now and again we came
to an
old tree that looked as if it were hollow near the top. On every such
tree old
Hughy knocked loudly with the axe, crying, "Hark, boy! Hark! D'ye hear
'em? D'ye see any come out up thar?" At times he drew forth his
"specs" and, having adjusted them, peeped and peered upward. Like his
ears, the old man's eyes were becoming too defective for bee hunting. In that
manner we went on for at
least a mile, until at last we came to Swift Brook, a turbulent little
stream
in a deep, rocky gully. Our course led across the ravine, and while we
were
hunting for an easy place to descend I espied bees flying in and out of
a
woodpecker's hole far up toward the broken top of a partly decayed
basswood
tree. "Here they
are!" I
shouted, much elated. Old Hughy
couldn't see them even
with his glasses on, they were so high and looked so small. He knocked
on the
trunk of the tree, and when I told him that I could see bees pouring
out and
distinctly hear the hum of those in the tree he was satisfied that I
had made
no mistake. When bee
hunters trace a swarm to a
high tree they usually fell the tree; to that task the old man and I
now set
ourselves. The basswood was fully three feet in diameter, and leaned
slightly
toward the brook. In spite of the slant, old Hughy thought that by
proper
cutting the tree could be made to fall on our side of the gully instead
of
across it. He threw off his old coat and set to work, but soon stopped
short
and began rubbing his shoulder and groaning, "Oh, my rheumatiz, my
rheumatiz! O-o-oh, how it pains me!" That may
have been partly pretense,
intended to make me take the axe; for he was a wily old fellow. However
that may
be, I took it and did a borrowed boy's best to cut the scarfs as he
directed,
but hardly succeeded. I toiled a long time and blistered my palms. Basswood
is not a hard wood,
however, and at last the tree started to fall; but instead of coming
down on our
side of the gully it fell diagonally across it and crashed into the top
of a
great hemlock that stood near the stream below. The impact was so
tremendous
that many of the brittle branches of both trees were broken off. At
first we
thought that the basswood was going to break clear, but it finally hung
precariously against the hemlock at a height of thirty feet or more
above the
bed of the brook. From the stump the long trunk extended out across the
brook
in a gentle, upward slant to the hemlock. The bees came out in force.
Though in
felling the tree I had disturbed them considerably, none of them had
come down
to sting us, but now they filled the air. Apparently the swarm was a
large one.
Old Hughy
was a good deal
disappointed. "I snum, that 'ere's a bad mess," he grumbled. At last he
concluded that we should
have to fell the hemlock. Judging from the ticklish way the basswood
hung on
it, the task looked dangerous. We climbed down into the gully, however,
and,
with many an apprehensive glance aloft where the top of the basswood
hung
threateningly over our heads, approached the foot of the hemlock and
began to
chop it. The bees immediately descended about our heads. Soon one of
them stung
old Hughy on the ear. We had to beat a retreat down the gully and wait
for the
enraged insects to go back into their nest. The hole
they went into was in plain
sight and appeared to be the only entrance to the cavity in which they
had
stored their honey. It was a round hole and did not look more than two
inches
in diameter. While we waited for the bees to return to it old Hughy,
still
rubbing his sore ear, changed his plan of attack. "We've got
to shet the stingin'
varmints in!" he exclaimed. "One of us has got to walk out with a
plug, 'long that 'ere tree trunk, and stop 'em in." We climbed
back up the side of the
gully to the stump of the basswood. There the old man, taking out his
knife,
whittled a plug and wrapped round it his old red handkerchief. "Now this
'ere has got to be
stuck in that thar hole," he said, glancing first along the log that
projected out over the gully and then at me. "When I was a boy o' your
age
I'd wanted no better fun than to walk out on that log; but my old head
is
gittin' a leetle giddy. So I guess you'd better go and stick in this
'ere plug.
A smart boy like you can do it jest as easy as not." "But I am
afraid the bees will
sting me!" I objected. "Oh, you
can put on them gloves
and tie that 'ere veil over your head," the old man said. "I'll tie
it on fer ye." I had
misgivings, but, not liking to
fail old Hughy at a pinch, I let him rig me up for the feat and at
last, taking
the plug, started to walk up the slightly inclined tree trunk to the
woodpecker's hole, which was close to the point where the basswood
rested
against the hemlock. I found it was not hard to walk up the sloping
trunk if I
did not look down into the gully. With stray bees whizzing round me, I
slowly
took one step after another. Once I felt the trunk settle slightly, and
I
almost decided to go back; but finally I went on and, reaching the
hole,
grasped a strong, green limb of the hemlock to steady myself. Then I
inserted
the plug, which fitted pretty well, and drove it in with the heel of my
boot. Perhaps it
was the jar of the blow,
perhaps it was my added weight, but almost instantly I felt the trunk
slip
again — and then down into the gully it went with a crash! Luckily I
still had hold of the
hemlock limb and clung to it instinctively. For a moment I dangled
there; then
with a few convulsive efforts I succeeded in drawing myself to the
trunk of the
hemlock and getting my feet on a limb. Breathless, I now glanced
downward and
was terrified to see that in falling the basswood had carried away the
lower
branches of the hemlock and left no means of climbing down. If the
trunk of the
hemlock had been smaller I could have clasped my arms about it and slid
down;
but it was far too big round for that. In fact, to get down unassisted
was
impossible, and I was badly frightened. I suppose I was perched not
more than
thirty-five feet above the ground; but to me, glancing fearfully down
on the
rocks in the bed of the brook, the distance looked a hundred! Moreover,
the trunk of the basswood
had split open when it struck, and all the bees were out. Clouds of
them,
rising as high as my legs, began paying their respects to me as the
cause of
their trouble. Luckily the veil kept them from my face and neck. I could
see old Hughy on the brink
of the gully, staring across at me, open-mouthed, and in my alarm I
called
aloud to him to rescue me. He did not reply and seemed at a loss what
to do. I had
started to climb higher into
the shaggy top of the hemlock, to avoid the bees, when I heard some one
call
out, "Hello!" The voice sounded familiar and, glancing across the
gully, I saw Willis Murch coming through the woods. Seeing us pass his
house
and knowing what we were in quest of, Willis, curious to know what
success we
would have, had followed us. He had lost track of us in the woods for a
time,
but had finally heard the basswood fall and then had found us. Even at
that distance across the
gully I saw Willis's face break into a grin when he saw me perched in
the
hemlock. For the present, however, I was too much worried to be proud
and
implored his aid. He looked round a while, exchanged a few words with
old Hughy
and then hailed me. "I guess
we shall have to fell
that hemlock to get you down," he shouted, laughing. Naturally,
I did not want that done.
"I shall
have to go home for a
long rope," he went on, becoming serious. "If we can get the end of a
rope up there, you can tie it to a limb and then come down hand over
hand. But
I don't think our folks have a rope long enough; I may have to go round
to the
old Squire's for one." Since old
Hughy had no better plan
to suggest, Willis set off on the run. As the distance was fully two
miles, I
had a long wait before me, and so I made myself as comfortable as I
could on
the limb and settled down to wait. Old Hughy
hobbled down into the
gully with his kettle and tried to smother the bees by putting the
brimstone
close to the cleft in the tree trunk and setting it afire; but,
although the
fumes rose so pungently that I was obliged to hold my nose to keep from
being
smothered, the effect on the bees was not noticeable. Old Hughy then
tried
throwing water on them. The water was more efficacious than the
brimstone, and
before Willis returned the old man was able to cut out a section of the
tree
trunk and fill his two pails with the dripping combs — all of which I
viewed
not any too happily from aloft. Willis
appeared at last with the
coil of rope. With him came Addison and Halstead, much out of breath,
and a few
minutes later the old Squire himself arrived. They said that
grandmother Ruth
also was on the way. Willis, it seems, had spread alarming reports of
my
predicament. Willis and
Addison tied numerous
knots in the rope so that it should not slip through my hands and
knotted a
flat stone into the end of it. Then they took turns in throwing it up
toward me
until at length I caught it and tied it firmly to the limb on which I
was
sitting. Then I ventured to trust my weight to it and amid much
laughter but
without any difficulty lowered myself to the ground. In fact, I
was not exactly the hero.
The hero, I think, was Willis. But for his appearance I hardly know how
I
should have fared. Old Hughy,
I remember, was rather
loath to share the honey with us; but we all took enough to satisfy us.
The old
man, indeed, was hardly the hero of the occasion either — a fact that
he became
aware of when on our way home we met grandmother Ruth, anxious and red
in the
face from her long walk. She expressed herself to him with great
frankness.
"Didn't you promise to be careful where you sent that boy!" she
exclaimed. "Hugh Glinds, you are a palavering old humbug!" Old Hughy
had little enough to say;
but he tried to smooth matters over by offering her a piece of honey
comb. "No, sir,"
said she.
"I want none of your honey!" All that
the old Squire had said
when he saw me up in the hemlock was, "Be calm, my son; you will get
down
safe." And when they threw the rope up to me he added, "Now, first
tie a square knot and then take good hold of the rope with both hands."
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