"Yes, young man, an' I'm 'bliged to ye. The rest of 'em will find their way to the queen, I guess. When these bees makes honey, if you'll come over I'll give you a hunk."
CHAPTER IX.
SHOOTING.
Lew Veazie was a sorry sight when he got up from the ground. The water had converted the soil into mud, which plastered him now from head to foot. And here and there on his face and hands were red spots made by the bee stings.
Gene Skelding was flailing at some bees that did not seem to have discovered that the queen was captured and their rightful domicile was the farmer's pail. There were other bees also at liberty, and one of them, angered no doubt by the turn of events, popped a stinger into the cuticle of Bink Stubbs.
"Scatt!" shrieked Bink. "Get away from here, or I'll murder you!"
Browning moved back, for a bee seemed to be making a desperate effort to single him out as a victim. Then he stuck his pipe into his mouth, quickly fished out some tobacco, and crammed the bowl full, and lighted it.
"Smoke 'em off!" he said. "That's a good way to fight bees."
"And tobacco smoke keeps away other female critters!" laughed Danny, trying rather vainly to imitate the peculiar quality in the farmer's speech. "That's the reason you have never been popular with the fair. Now there is Veazie——"