Horatio smiled when he heard this, and the planter who was listening sent one of the servants to the house. He came out soon with a piece of fresh honey on a plate. He offered it to Horatio, who handed Bo the violin, and seizing the plate, swallowed the honey at one gulp. This made the crowd shout and laugh, and then Bo shook hands with the planter and said good-bye, and all the darkies came up and wanted to shake hands, too. When he had shaken hands all around the little boy turned to look for Horatio. He was nowhere in sight. The others had not noticed him slip away.
Bo was troubled. When Horatio disappeared like that it meant mischief. He had promised reform as to pickaninnies, but Bo was never quite sure. He was about to ask the people to run in every direction in search of his comrade when there was a sudden commotion in the back door yard, and a moment later a black figure dashed through the gate with something under its arm. It was Horatio! The crowd of darkies took one look and scattered. The thing under Horatio's arm was a square, box looking affair, and out of it was streaming a black, living cloud.
"Bees!" shouted the people as they fled. "Bees! Bees!"
Bo understood instantly. The taste of honey had made Horatio greedy for more. He had gone in search of it and returned with hive and all. There was a clump of tall weeds just behind the little boy, and he dropped down into them. They hid him from view, and none too soon, for the Bear dashed past, snorting and striking at the swarm of stingers that not only covered him, but fiercely attacked everything in sight. Howls began to come from some of the hands that had failed to find shelter in time, and Bo, peeping out between the weeds, saw half a dozen darkies frantically trying to open the big door of the sugar house, which had been hastily closed by those within, while the angry bees were pelting furiously at the unfortunates.
THE BEAR DASHED PAST, SNORTING.
As for Horatio, he was coated with bees that were trying to sting through his thick fur. He did not mind them at first, but presently they began to get near his eyes. With a snarl he dropped the hive and began to paw and strike with both hands. Then they swarmed about him worse than ever, and, half blinded, he began to run around and around with no regard as to direction. Every darky in sight fled like the wind. Some of them ran out of the gate and down the road, and without seeing them, perhaps, the Bear suddenly leaped the fence and set out in the same direction. Glancing back, they saw him coming and began to shriek and scatter into the fields.
Bo waited some minutes; then, noticing that the maddened insects were no longer buzzing viciously over him, he crept out and followed. He still held the violin and was glad enough to get away from the plantation. The bees had followed the fugitive, and the boy kept far enough behind to be out of danger. By and by he met bees coming back, but perhaps they were tired or thought he belonged to another crowd, for they did not molest him. A mile further on he found Horatio sitting in the road rocking and groaning and throwing dust on himself. His eyes and nose were swollen in great knots, and his ears were each puffed up like little balloons. The bees had left him, but his sorrow was at its height.
"Hello, Ratio! Having fun all alone?" asked Bo as he came up.
"Oh, Bo, this has been an awful day!" was the wailing reply. "First those terrible oranges and then these millions and millions of murderous bees. And now I am blind, Bo, and dying. Tell me, Bo, how do I look?"