“Why, yesterday I noticed that the bees in the next hive to the stand where the hive was stolen were gone all day. They didn’t go near the clover field. This morning there were only about half the regular bees in that hive. The others didn’t come back.”
“Why,” queried Pep, animatedly, “you don’t think they’ve gone after the stolen bees?”
“Yes, sir, that’s just what I do think,” insisted the lad who had spoken. “Some of ’em couldn’t find the other hives, maybe, and came back; but where are the missing ones?”
“Say,” exclaimed Vic, “that’s a great idea! If you could only follow them——”
“Pshaw!” dissented the farmer, “what do the newspapers know about bees? They just make up all kinds of ridiculous things to fill up their columns.”
“Well, I believe they know something about it in this case,” declared his son. “Why don’t you let me try it, Pop? The papers says to sprinkle the bees with fine flour and keep sight of them for miles and miles.”
“Rubbish!” retorted the self-opinionated father, but after a general discussion of the situation he agreed “to fool away the time on the nonsensical experiment,” as he called it.
Bright and early in the morning both Pep and Vic were down at the breakfast table. The farmer’s boys had already attended to the flouring of the bees and told them about it. They took their guests to the orchard and showed them the hive they had doctored. Then they had to start for their work in the fields.
“I declare, you’ve been right good and entertaining,” declared the farmer, as Pep and Vic came to the house to say good-bye. “None of that!” he roared, as Pep started to take out his pocketbook. “You let us have the news if you find out anything, hey?”
“We will do just that, you can depend upon it,” promised Pep.