“Why, you see,” volunteered the latter, wishing to air his knowledge, “bees, as soon as they scent smoke, believe their hive is on fire. Every feller gets busy right away, loading up with honey. And when they’re doing that, they won’t take any notice of other things, so they c’n be handled easy enough. I know somethin’ ’bout bees, because we got a new fangled hive at home.”
“Huh! I just guess you know more about ’em right now than ever you did before, Bumpus,” chuckled Step Hen, who had not been stung once; “and it’s been impressed on you pretty strong, too, so’s to keep you from forgettin’ the same. After this you ain’t agoin’ to romp into a hive of bees that’s been upset, not in a hurry.”
“Allan, s’pose you get busy with that smoke,” remarked Bumpus, disdaining to appear to notice this slur on his capacity for bee lore.
“We’d better wait a little longer,” the other advised; “so we can get closer. They’ll quiet down in a little while, and then we can make the fire on the windward side, so that the smoke must drift right across the hive.”
Presently he set them to work collecting just the kind of fuel he wanted, and which was calculated to make a dense smoke. When this smudge was started going it seemed to set the bees working with feverish eagerness to load themselves down with honey. No one ever has learned just why they do this, unless it is the desire to save enough food for self support; because they never attempt to rescue any of the young brood in the cells.
“Ain’t it near time now?” asked the impatient Bumpus, whom even the swollen condition of his neck and cheeks did not seem to entirely cure of that eager desire to snatch the fruits of his victory from the savage little army of protectors.
“A little longer, and then we can set to work. Better let Jim and me do the main part of it, boys. You might be too excited; and it’s always that kind of a fellow the bees tackle. I’ve known bee keepers who handle their hives day in and day out all season, and seldom get a sting. They’re cool, and never make a false move, such as knocking the box, or coughing, or any sort of sound that will anger the insects.”
He went on to tell them some interesting facts connected with the finding of bee trees, which he had either heard from the lips of others, or witnessed himself.
Ten minutes passed, and Bumpus was growing impatient again, when Allan remarked:
“Now, the time is up, I guess; and if you keep back of us, and hand us the buckets, Jim and myself can begin to get some of that clear stuff, which looks like this season’s make. It won’t take only a little time till we fill everything we brought, and there must be a ton of the stuff, all told, in this big old hive.”