JUNE 15, 1915 



507 



He trotted, ran, and then 

 galloped. 



this whole county; but ye're busy now; 

 finish takin' thera maggots out and puttin' 

 'em whar ye want 'em and I'll show ye the 

 principles of a little model I have with mo." 

 The grafting had been explained as I had 

 read it in the ABC. 



Every beekeeper is said to have in his 

 apiary a colony or two that can be relied 



upon in an 

 •5-.^- ^ .w;^^ emerge n c y , 

 '^^"•t^H and I am no 

 ■ * "" exce p t i o n . 

 Mine was 

 next to my 

 breeding 

 queen ; for 

 though I re- 

 queened this 

 colony twice 

 it still retain- 

 ed its proclivities to sting on the slightest 

 provocation, and I gave up trj'ing to breed 

 out this propensity, attributing it to " local- 

 ity." 



My visitor, in explaining his patent 

 " gum," grew eloquent, swinging his leg 

 like the baton of tlie musical director in an 

 old-fasliioned camp-meeting, and inadver- 

 tently struck the colony just behind him 

 with his heel. Instantly they were upon 

 him — ankles, legs, and face; and, although 

 he protested fiercely that they didn't sting 

 him when I asked him, I know that if bees 

 were to go through the same process on my 

 face I'd consider I had been stung. That is 

 not all. They kept coming. 



" Shall I give them smoke? I fear they 

 will sting 3'ou." 



" They won't sting if ye don't strike at 

 'em," he said. 



Now, ] am a rather human sort of person ; 

 and to clear my conscience I will confess 

 that I was interested in (I almost said en- 

 joyed) the situation. You would have 

 thought those bees suddenly discovered some 

 rare honey-plant right at their door from 

 the attention they gave him. However, as 

 they crawled up those tight black pant-legs 

 they more nearly resembled bees trying to 

 gather pollen from the goldenrod. 



1 did most of the talking now, for I 

 didn't want to lose an opportunity of find- 

 ing out how to keep from getting stung 

 when in a tight place, and this man was 

 backing off. Just then one hit him on the 

 " dollar " of his nose. He snorted like a 

 scared colt. I could see by the pained ex- 

 pression on his face that the half-hundred 

 bees working on his legs were also begin- 

 ning to penetrate the epidermis. I could 

 no longer interest him in conversation. He 

 backed off, tried to walk out of the apiary 

 with dignity, but he couldn't get away fast 

 enough. He .- ,^ 

 trotted, ran, ^'^X^^. 

 and then gal- 

 loped. He 

 bounded over 

 the small 

 brush like a 

 tiger. Long 

 after he was 

 out of sight I 

 could hear 

 the smashing 

 of limbs and 

 the rolling of logs. 



I don't know whether I was stung or not. 

 I didn't feel it if I was. But I know I 

 learned the secret of the fellow who never 

 gets stung, and it didn't cost $3.49. 



I had learned the secret of the 

 fellow who never gets stung. 



'iimitnuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!iiii!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiii!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!i;! 



Bees Rioting in Chili 



In February, 1914, while walking along the banks 

 of the Rio Grande about half a mile from my place, 

 I raiue to an old log mill. Bees were so thick 

 around it that it was almost impossible to see 

 through them. Thinking they were after flour or 

 meal T paid no more attention to them until three 

 days latter when I noticed them coming in loaded 

 with something red. I again went to the mill and 

 found a Mexican grinding chile. In spite of the 

 fact that he had smudges to keep tlie bees out, they 

 were actually fichting and rolling in the chile. 



This year in March, I noticed the bees gathering 

 sawdust or anything they could get for pollen. I 

 put some graham flour out for them, and some chile 

 also. In a short time the fun commenced. The bees 

 could not have been more excited had I put out pure 

 honey. They did not disturb the flour until they had 

 used up the chile. 



Velarde, N. M. Henry Seversok. 



Loafing in June 



BY GRACE ALLEN 



Well, yes; I admit it is prosily true: 

 There arc plenty and plenty of things to do 

 Besides loafing here. But the wonderful bees 

 Are humming so steadily under the trees! 

 Then, too, there are roses and hints of a breeze, 

 And a marvel of green and blue I 



Oh! how can you think on a morning in June, 

 When grasse-s are swaying and bees are a-croon, 

 That hurry and effort are always best? 

 My soul is adrift on a quieter quest — 

 The calm and content of a softrbreathing rest 

 As I pause with the bees in June. 



