“Yes; I see,” replied Lawrence; “but what a place! Why, they must be without sun half their time.”
“Oh, no, effendi,” said Yussuf; “certainly they are in shadow at times, but though the village seems to lie low, we are high up in the mountains, and when it is scorching in the plains, and the grass withers for want of water, and down near the sea people die of fever and sunstroke, up here it is cool and pleasant, and the flowers are blossoming, and the people gather in their fruit and tend their bees.”
“And in the winter, Yussuf?” said the professor, who had been listening to the conversation.
“Ah, yes, in the winter, effendi, it is cold. There is the snow, and the wolves and the bears come down from the mountains. It is a bad time then. But what will you?—is it always summer and sunshine everywhere? Ah! look, effendi Lawrence,” he cried, pointing across the narrow gorge, “you can see from here.”
“See what?” cried Lawrence. “I can only see some holes.”
“Yes; those are the caves where the people here keep their bees. The hives are in yonder.”
“What, in those caves?”
“Yes; the people are great keepers of bees, for they thrive well, and there is abundance of blossom for the making of honey.”
“But why do they put the hives in yonder?”
“In the caves? Because they are out of the sun, which would make the honey pour down and run out in the hot summer time, and in the winter the caverns are not so cold. It does not freeze hard there, and the hives are away out of the snow, which lies so heavy here in the mountains. It is very beautiful up here, and in the spring among the trees there is no such place anywhere in the country for nightingales; they till the whole valley with their song. Now, effendi, look before you.”