"I scrutinized his hat inquisitively."
After considerable search, I found boots and shoes, but failed to see either dog or donkey. Putting on my boots, I hung my shoes on the fence, and set out on the trail of the fugitives, which appeared to have gone into the brush. I waded into the thicket, calling Don all the time, and at last was rewarded. He leaped at me delightedly, and barked, and tugged at my trouser legs, and piloted me to the terrified donkey which I found tangled in a mass of wild raspberry bushes, his head tucked between his forelegs, and his back doubled up like a cat at bay. There were no bees on Mac.
That was a hot experience, for a raw March day. I plodded on through the mire to the house, whose proprietor had come to my rescue. The dooryard was filled with hives.
"Regular bee ranch," I remarked, pleasantly, though I burned uncomfortably.
"Yas. Right smart business," the man returned.
"You're right; bees do a smart business."
"Lived on 'em nigh ten years."
"You must find them a hot diet!" I said. "I lived on a nest of them less than half a minute and nearly burned up."
"I reckon so," he replied with a chuckle. "I saw yer scorchin'."
It was 2:30 P. M. when we crossed the state line. The first sight that greeted my eyes in Indiana was a flock of Ohio geese just ahead of us, being driven by a hoosier.