444 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



July, 1922 



this indignant delegation in the front bal- 

 cony, so he dropped the hatchet and started 

 to run; he didn't care much where he went> 

 but he had a steadily increasing desire to 

 get away from there suddenly and with as 

 little fuss as possible. At the far end of 

 the lot was a stone fence about six feet 

 high, and Web was so anxious to let the 

 poor bees have the entire back yard to 

 themselves that he cleared it by a margin 

 of four feet — and never knew it was there. 



With great presence of mind he retained 

 the smoker in a vise-like grip, and every 

 few rods he slowed down and sent up a 

 smoke barrage under cover of which he 

 struck off at a different angle and increased 

 his speed several revolutions. Hank had 

 been a witness of it all, and it tickled him 

 so much he couldn't sit in the chair; so, re- 

 gardless of his "rheumatics," he rolled off 

 on the ground in paroxyms of laughter. 



While sitting up and rubbing his eyes 

 after a particularly violent outburst he ob- 

 served Web headed in his direction, sur- 

 rounded by a cloud of bees and making bet- 

 ter than 20 miles an hour. Hank motioned 

 violently for him to sheer off a couple of 

 points to starboard and run for the open 

 sea, but Web had his steering gear set for 

 the home port, and a convoy of 3500 bees 

 furnished the incentive for a record-break- 

 ing trip. 



As he flew past, a detachment of the yel- 

 low-barred fellows turned their attention to 

 Hank, and that gentleman rose up as though 

 the earth had suddenly been transformed 

 into a red-hot griddle, and, forgetting his 

 crutch and painful infirmity, started for 



home with the lithe agility of a hungry 

 weasel. 



Mrs. Wetherbee saw them coming, and 

 with great forethought locked the door and 

 hid in the pantry. Despite Web 's running 

 start. Hank beat him to the house by the 

 fraction of an inch, and Mrs. Wetherbee 

 entrenched among the dishpans had the 

 satisfaction of hearing them alternately 

 beating on the door, and making an occa- 

 sional rapid circuit of the house, varied 

 now and then by the scuffling of feet and 

 the sound of cuffs and blows whenever they 

 were forced to make a stand to dislodge the 

 ones that had landed on an exposed strip 

 of hide. 



After the bees had tired of the slaugh- 

 ter and returned to the dismantled hive, 

 Mrs. . Wetherbee opened the door and the 

 beekeepers slunk in covered with angry red 

 lumps and perspiration — both entirely new 

 experiences for Hank and Web. 



"Well, you poor cripple, how's the rheu- 

 matiz?" inquired the lady, placing her 

 hands on her hips and eyeing Hank sternly; 

 "seems to me you can hobble around quite 

 peart today without your crutch, can't 

 you ? ' ' 



Hank saw the game was up, so he rolled 

 a swollen red eye in her direction and 

 opined feebly that he felt jest like choppin' 

 up some wood — and Mrs. Wetherbee, watch- 

 ing from the pantry window, saw him bring 

 the crutch and an armful of dry limbs to 

 the chopping block and vigorously reduce 

 them to a large and useful pile of kindling 

 wood. W. L. Clement. 



Newburgh, N. Y. 



Hank cleared the stone fence with four feet to spare. 



