“I done told you-all not to come round here no more!” he growled.
His temper was evidently much ruffled, but Carl laughed.
“Didn’t get stung, did you?” he said. “I know you warned us, but bees don’t hurt us. That’s our trade.”
The hunter snorted contemptuously. He gazed up at the rows of new hives that had replaced Dick’s old apiary.
“Them bees won’t stay in them patent gums of yourn,” he said. “Them’s wild bees. And them bees don’t belong to you-all noways. You ain’t got no right to ’em.”
“Yes, we arranged all that with the people who own the land,” said Bob.
“They don’t own ’em neither. Me and my partners bought ’em from Old Dick’s family. We’re fixin’ to melt ’em up for the beeswax. You-all didn’t ought to done nothing till you found out who them bees belong to. Now you’ll have to git.”
The young apiarists looked at one another for a moment in silent amazement. Evidently Candler was affected by something more than the irritation of being stung. He had come to give them notice.
“Well, we’re certainly not going to get out,” said Joe firmly. “I’m Louis Marshall’s nephew, up at Magnolia Landing, and these are my cousins. I know well enough Old Dick didn’t have any family. We’ve got our title all fixed clear to these bees, and we’re going to keep them.”
“We’ll see about that when my partners get back,” returned the hunter. “That’ll be the end of this week. I’m givin’ you a friendly hint now. My partners ain’t easy men to fool with, an’ if you ain’t gone by that time you’ll wish you’d never seen this here River Island.”