"
Getting the tin pails, the kettle and the brimstone together with an axe
and a compass at the old man's cabin, we went out across the fields and
the pastures north of the Wilbur farm to the borders of the woods
through which old Hughy wanted to follow the bees.
A line of stakes that old Hughy had set up across the open land marked
the direction in which the bees had flown to the forest. After taking
our bearings from them by compass we entered the woods and went on from
one large tree to another. Now and again we came to an old tree that
looked as if it were hollow near the top. On every such tree old Hughy
knocked loudly with the axe, crying, "Hark, boy! Hark! D'ye hear 'em?
D'ye see any come out up thar?" At times he drew forth his "specs" and,
having adjusted them, peeped and peered upward. Like his ears, the old
man's eyes were becoming too defective for bee hunting.
In that manner we went on for at least a mile, until at last we came to
Swift Brook, a turbulent little stream in a deep, rocky gully. Our
course led across the ravine, and while we were hunting for an easy
place to descend I espied bees flying in and out of a woodpecker's hole
far up toward the broken top of a partly decayed basswood tree.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285