1904 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



643 



" Here he goes, boys I Gracious! what a 

 track I he's a big one." 



"All right; uow go slow and careful, 

 and let's not lose it again." 



There were three of us, and we had 

 started out on a thawy day in February of 

 the winter just past, in quest of coons. 

 About noon we struck a track which we 

 followed with difficulty, owing to the fact 

 that a crust had formed the night before, 

 which enabled the animal to travel for sev- 

 eral rods without breaking through; and it 

 was only when we found ihe thin places 

 that we could do any tracking. 



It was after a longer search than usual, 

 and the final finding of the lost track, that 

 Djc called out, " Here he goes, boys I " 



All was now plain sailing for a time, 

 and we followed the trail over logs and 

 through brush to a tall oak where the tracks 

 seemed to end ; but the marks upon the tree- 

 trunk and the scattered pieces of bark upon 

 the snow showed plainly that the coon had 

 gone up. 



"Say, boys," said Fred, "we'll have 

 that coon inside of twenty minutes." 



"He's our meat," said Doc. 



"Yes, that's all right. Doc," said I; 

 " but Where's the hole he went into? " 



" Oh I it's probably up somewhere in that 

 crotch where these two big limbs branch 

 out; but let's not fool away any time — daj's 

 are short, and that oak's no fijhpole." 



A half-hour's work with ax and cross- cut 

 SHW brought the tree to the ground. A rush 

 f jr the top, and a hasty but unsuccessful 

 search for the coon followed. 



" What's become of that coon, an} how?" 

 said Doc. 



"Oh I he's probably in that hole in the 

 crotch," answered Fred. 



Here Doc indulged in some choice talk that 

 couldn't be put into a religious book with- 

 out injuring the sale of it, and then pro- 

 ceeded to examine the tree. Njt a hole 



could be found large enough for a bumble- 

 bee to crawl into. 



Pretty soon Fred called out, " Here are 

 his tracks I He's come down that big hem- 

 lock, and fanned out." 



Away we went again until we reached a 

 pine stub broken off about twenty feet from 

 the ground. The coon had climbed this 

 and come down. A few rods more brought 

 us to a large chestnut where the act had 

 been repeated. 



" Say, boys, that coon must be training 

 f r a cake walk; he's getting lots of exer- 

 cise out of it, anyhow. I'd like to know 

 what he is doing all this climbing for." 



" Guess he's lost something, and trying 

 to get on track of it," said Fred. 



" Now," said I, "that's pretty close to 

 the truth. I can tell you what that chap's 

 up to. He's trying to get on track of some 

 honey." 



" Honey?" 



"Yes, honey. That coon is a bee- hunter, 

 and that's what he is climbing the trees 

 for." 



" Do coons like honey? " Fred asked. 



"Like it? Well, I should remark. Why, 

 don't you know the coon is little brother to 

 the bear? and both are passionately fond of 

 honey." 



" Well, this is interesting; but, cornel I'm 

 anxious to wear this little brother's scalp 

 in my belt," and Fred led off on the trail 

 which now took us out on the smooth ice of 

 the bayou, where we lost the track entirely. 



"Well," said Doc, "I guess we might 

 as well fold our tents like the Arabs, and 

 silently steal away. We can't track any 

 thing on this ice." 



"Don't give up yet. Doc," said Fred. 

 "I'll bet abrownstone front he's making for 

 Wintergreen Island." 



Fred now took the lead. I came next, 

 and Doc last. A sort of sliding or skating 

 motion was made necessary by the extreme- 

 ly slippery condition of the ice, and we had 

 not proceeded fir when an expressive 

 ''l-'gh "' in the rear caused us to look back, 

 and there was Doc silting on the ice in the 



shape of a letter V, hands and feet in the 

 air. 



" Tired, Doc?" asked Fred. 



" That's what Mark Twain wculd call 

 attitudinizing," said 1. 



