“Now all aboard with the bees!” Bob shouted.
He wiped his streaming eyes, seized upon the nearest hive, splashed with it into the shallow water, and set it on the raft. The bees were not flying, but the smoke and heat had caused them to cluster out on the entrances in great lumps. It was impossible to handle the hives without crushing bees, and when this happened they stung savagely.
But it was no time to think of stings, and the boys hardly noticed them. The hives were a heavy weight, however; they were stuffed with willow-herb honey; some of them must have weighed eighty pounds, and the most distant had to be carried over a hundred feet to the raft. It was hardly possible to handle these single-handed.
Already the fire had burst out around the corner of the lake, and the dry wood around the apiary was ablaze. A flame suddenly sprang up in the middle of the yard, but Carl instantly stamped it out and went on with the work. His hands were bleeding; his back felt as if it were broken. He hardly knew how the last hives got on the raft. But suddenly there were no more of the painted boxes on the shore, and his brother was crying frantically to him to come aboard. He waded into the water up to his neck, helped to shove the shaky raft off, and swung himself upon the logs. With a couple of long poles the boys worked furiously to push the raft into deep water, but it moved with extreme slowness.
The whole shore was now aflame. Masses of blazing wood, driven by the wind, went hissing into the water. The heat and smoke were almost unendurable. But foot by foot the raft crept out into the lake till the water grew so deep that they could no longer reach bottom. They were forced to use the poles as sweeps, and their progress became still slower.
“We’ll save them! We’ll do it!” cried Bob, exultantly.
But they were far from safe. They were about a hundred feet from shore, and the heat was intense. Fire flooded over the whole ground where the apiary had stood. On the raft the air was scorching, and presently honey and melted wax began to ooze from one of the hives. The combs were melting down.
Carl leaned over the edge and dashed water over all the hives, and it steamed up from the hot wood. But he kept splashing them till they cooled somewhat; meanwhile Bob was working hard at the pole. Presently, by good luck, they passed over a shoal spot, and they dug the poles into the bottom, gaining several yards.
At that moment Carl cried out sharply and pointed ashore.
“What is it?” exclaimed Bob.