533 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



July 15. 



"It's my painful dooty," said Dawson, " to 

 inform you that it is supposin' that he went tu 

 the bottom of the river; and may be is thar yet 

 fur all I know, fur he never was found. Yer 

 see, stranger, them ar bees gather the most of 

 their honey from rattieweed posies, which is 

 plentiful like around hyer; an' whoever eats 

 their honey or gits stung by them gits more or 

 less rattled; an' then, stranger, I don't like ter 

 say it of a dead man, an' a friend; but the own- 

 er of them varmints liked Colusa whisky pooty 

 well; and atween rattleweed honey and tangle- 

 foot whisky his mortal remains are somewhar, 

 I'm sposin', in the bottom of the river." 



"Then if the owner is dead, who owns the 

 things now?"' said Fred. 



"Nobody, as I know on; they've been thar 

 "now nigh on ter two years, an' nobody has 

 teched them except now and then a fool camper, 

 an' they allers git away quick an' rattled like." 

 "But 1 supposed," said Fred, "that, after a 

 man's death in this State, in case he hRd no 

 relatives or heirs here, ths public administrator 

 would take possession and settle up the estate." 

 "Yaas, that's the law," said Dawson; "but 

 as the body of McBurger was never found, it's 

 only a supposin' that he war drownded. He 

 mout a run away, yer know. Bout a year arter 

 the mystarious disappearance the public ad- 

 ministrator hooked on to the affair fur a little 

 recreation like. When he come hyer the fixins 

 looked all stove up, like they'd had a cramp; 

 an' the few bees that war left, as yif bein' 

 aware they war monarchs of all they surveyed, 

 administered on the administrator afore he had 

 a chance to administer on them. He recreated 

 right lively amongst the bushes— a good eel 

 more so than he expected. I heerd he reported 

 at Colusa with his eyes shet, an' that the fixin's 

 war no good, an' his great-gran'mother, or some 

 other remote relative, mout have them afore he 

 would try to administer thar agen." 



"Then I understand," said Fred, "that no 

 person has a claim on the property, and the 

 public—" 



" Now, hold on, stranger; one thing at a time, 

 decently an' in order," said Dawson. "The 

 only claim I knows on is my claim of $10. 

 McBurger owed me fur pervisions — bacon, eggs, 

 an' sich." 



"There's nothing, then, to prevent my taking 

 those bee fixings up the river and making good 

 use of them?" said Fred. 



"No," replied Dawson; " nothin' 'ceptin' that 

 little »10 'count." 



Fred hesitated a moment about paying the 

 money, for he had doubts about the correctness 

 and validity of the account. On the other 

 hand, he reasoned that, if he did pay him and 

 take his receipt, he would have something to 

 show that would in a measure exonerate him if 

 another claimant should appear; furthermore, 

 the things were going to ruin where they were; 



and as the success of his plans depended upon 

 his securing the outfit, he said, "Mr. Dawson, 

 I am willing to pay your account upon condi- 

 tion that you sign a receipt for the same;" and 

 Fred pulled out his memorandum-book and 

 proceeded to write a receipt in full with privi- 

 lege of removal. 



'■ W a 11, stranger," said Dawson, "down in 

 Mizzoori and Arkansas, whar I have lived, we 

 didn't do things that way. A man's word war 

 considered as good as ary writin";" and, turn- 

 ing suddenly to Fred, said he, " Whar you frum, 

 any way ? " 



"I'm from the State of Maine," Fred replied. 



"Ha, ha! thought so," said Dawson. "Yan- 

 kee!" and he said it in a sarcastic tone not un- 

 min^ed with a tinge of hatred. "Yankee, on 

 the pickayune order. Yas, Yankee. I'll make 

 my mark on yer little paper;" and Fred noted 

 the malignant gleam in his eyes as he made a 

 cross for signature, without comment. Fred 

 put the proper ornaments around the cross, and, 

 taking out his purse, selected a flO' gold coin 

 from among several others of larger size and 

 the same color. The same malignant gleam 

 again appeared upon Dawson's face. 



Fred was glad to get away. It was well 

 toward evening when he said good-by to Daw- 

 son; and as the latter said "good-arternoon," 

 he remarked, "Spose you'll have ter sleep in 

 the cabin over thar." 



"I suppose so," said Fred as he hastened 

 away. As he passed the front of the house the 

 woman suddenly stretched her head out of the 

 little square window and spoke in a sort of 

 stage whisper, "Say, stranger, thar's ghosts 

 over thar — bewarr" — and her head as suddenly 

 withdrew. 



Fred Anderson was not a coward, neither was 

 he afraid of ghosts; but the words and ill- 

 concealed actions of the D'awsons gave him 

 some alarm, and enough food for thought until 

 he had crossed the river. He was convinced 

 that Dawson was a low down river cut-throat, 

 and he had no doubt that he had evil designs 

 against him that very night; and before land- 

 ing at the forlorn bee-ranch he had outlined 

 his plan of defense in case Dawson should mo- 

 lest him. As he landed his face brightened, 

 and, laughing aloud, he said. "Ha, ha! he 

 hates the business ways of a Yankee; but I'll 

 play him a Yankee trick he will not soon forget, 

 if he gives me a chance;" then he began to 

 sing, " The night is stormy and dark, my lover 

 is on the sea;" and his thoughts were of the 

 mad but charming Alfaretta. 



The sun was just sinking out of sight, leav- 

 ing tints of crimson and gold over all of the 

 western sky. Darkness would soon settle over 

 land and water, and Fred felt as though every 

 moment wherein he could see to work should 

 be improved; and during the next hour the 

 portable things— empty hives and their frames, 



