“What’s that thing he’s got on his head?” asked Violet, pointing to the mosquito netting veil that was draped over Farmer Joel’s hat. “And what’s that tin funnel full of smoke he carries?” For the machine in the farmer’s hand was like a kitchen funnel, turned on one side, and from the small end poured a cloud of white smoke.
“I’m going to try to get back that swarm of bees,” called Mr. Todd as he hurried out toward the trees under which were many hives of the honey-making insects. “That queen alone is worth fifty dollars. If she gets away it will be a bad loss for me.”
Away he hurried, followed by a cloud of smoke, and Rose asked:
“How in the world is he going to pick out a queen bee from the million or more that must be in the swarm?”
“I don’t know,” answered Russ.
“Let’s go out and see how he does it,” proposed Laddie, always ready to do something. “Maybe I could think of a riddle about bees if I went out there.”
“Most likely you’d be thinking about their stings if you went out there,” laughed Mr. Bunker. “You children stay here where you can watch Farmer Joel, and I’ll tell you what he is doing and how he can, perhaps, get back his fifty dollar queen, and I’ll tell you a little about how bees make honey.”
By this time Farmer Joel was out among his bees. The dark cloud of the swarming hive was right over his head, moving slowly along like some great bubble—only it was a bubble full of life. In the middle of the swarm was the queen bee and all her court was following, going wherever she went.
“How is he going to catch them?” asked Russ.
“He ought to have a butterfly net, or something like that,” said Rose.