The hole they went into was in plain sight and appeared to be the only
entrance to the cavity in which they had stored their honey. It was a
round hole and did not look more than two inches in diameter. While we
waited for the bees to return to it old Hughy, still rubbing his sore
ear, changed his plan of attack.
"We've got to shet the stingin' varmints in!" he exclaimed. "One of us
has got to walk out with a plug, 'long that 'ere tree trunk, and stop
'em in."
We climbed back up the side of the gully to the stump of the basswood.
There the old man, taking out his knife, whittled a plug and wrapped
round it his old red handkerchief.
"Now this 'ere has got to be stuck in that thar hole," he said, glancing
first along the log that projected out over the gully and then at me.
"When I was a boy o' your age I'd wanted no better fun than to walk out
on that log; but my old head is gittin' a leetle giddy. So I guess you'd
better go and stick in this 'ere plug. A smart boy like you can do it
jest as easy as not."
"But I am afraid the bees will sting me!" I objected.
"Oh, you can put on them gloves and tie that 'ere veil over your head,"
the old man said.
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