“Thankee, Mr. Joe!” Sam exclaimed in great delight. “Dunno what I’ll do with all dis money, nohow. I’m a-goin’ hunt up more gums while you-all is away. Reckon I kin fin’ lots an’ lots ef I looks fer ’em. Dis yere woods-ridin’, bee-keepin’, rosin-stealin’ bizness is jes’ what suits me. You come back soon too, Miss Alice. I’ll be a-waitin’ fer you.”
It was with genuine regret that they bade goodby to their faithful black retainer, and boarded the train that night for the North. Three whole days were consumed in the journey; they must have passed Carl with the bees somewhere en route, but they did not see him; and they arrived in Ontario and at Harman’s Corners at last in a spell of chilly May weather that to Joe seemed appallingly like winter.
It was the first time he had ever been north of Tennessee, and all things were even more novel and surprising to him than Alabama had seemed to his cousins. The great, smooth, fertile farms, almost devoid of woods, the immense, solid barns, the trim neatness of the little village delighted him immensely, and he had never seen anything like the ocean of dandelions that spread in a yellow flood over the whole country.
There was not much time for mere admiration, however, for many things had to be done. Alice had left her fifty colonies of bees in the yard of the old Harman house; these had to be removed from their winter packing-cases and looked after. Immediately lumber for three hundred supers had to be bought for the new apiary, with three thousand frames and hundreds of pounds of foundation, and all these supplies had to be put together, while at the same time they had to secure and prepare two new locations for bee-yards, three or four miles away, to avoid keeping too many colonies in one spot, and overstocking the range.
In the midst of all this Carl arrived with his cargo. He looked considerably the worse for wear, and said that he had had little sleep during the six days’ journey; but the bees were in good condition and roaring under their wire screens. Bob had ordered two motor-trucks and two large wagons to meet the car; and after thirty hours of hard work the car-load of hives was finally set down on their permanent stands. They made three apiaries of more than a hundred colonies apiece—one at home and two on the land of friendly farmers three and four miles away.
“Got ’em here at last!” Alice exclaimed with satisfaction, looking at the serried rows of southern pine hives, on the yellow ground of dandelions, with a clump of flowering apple-trees at a little distance. “I don’t suppose any bees in the world ever did so much traveling or went through such adventures.”
“Yes, it’s hard to realize that these are the bees that stood out by Old Dick’s cabin,” said Joe.
“Remember the bayou and the mud and the titi and the dewberries? Wonder if they’ll know the honey-plants here when they see them.”
But the sagacious insects made no difficulty about that. For a single half-day they were confused and frightened, stirring out little, and circling their hives to establish their location; then they went energetically to work, and in another day they were pouring in and out of the hives, carrying honey and pollen from the dandelions and the fruit-bloom. The familiar, working roar rose from the yard.
The boys had secured two bicycles and visited the two “out-apiaries” almost daily. Alice confined herself mostly to the home yard, but sometimes inspected the others; for this was the really critical period. Clover-bloom would come within three weeks, and it was necessary to get all the colonies built up to their maximum strength to gather it.