CHAPTER V
GATHERING THE HONEY
Whether it was the country air, or the exercise Roger took after hissudden bath, he did not know, but he felt no ill effects from the plungeinto the creek, nor did he catch cold. There was merry laughter over theaffair when he came downstairs dressed in a dry suit, and, on Mr.Kimball's suggestion, the boys decided they had gone through enoughexcitement for one day.
"I would think Roger needed a rest," said Clara.
"Ef ye ain't got nothin' else t' do this arternoon, Ade," said Mr.Kimball, "ye might git off some a' th' clover honey. I'm goin' t' send aload a' stuff t' Syracuse in th' mornin', 'n' I'll want some honey t'take 'long."
"Would you like to help at that?" asked Adrian of Roger. "It's easywork."
"I guess so," replied Roger, who thought it would be interesting to seehow the busy little bees worked and made the sweet stuff he had eatenthe first night he came. So the boys made their preparations afterdinner, which was soon served.
Mr. Kimball had about two hundred swarms, or hives, of bees, the littlehouses for the insects being arranged in rows in an orchard just southof the farm dwelling. The honey crop had been nearly all gathered inwhen Roger came, but some of the later swarms were still busy filling upthe "caps" with the sweet juices of flowers. Adrian got out two bigstraw hats, around the edges and coming down on all sides of which wasmosquito netting like a long veil. He put on one hat and gave the otherto Roger.
"What's it for?" asked the city boy.
"To keep you from getting stung."
"But," began Roger, his ardor cooling as he thought for the first timeof the chances of being nipped by the bees, "isn't it dangerous to goout among the hives, even with these veils on?"
"Not a bit," replied Adrian.
But when he saw his cousin heading for the midst of the collection ofhives, Roger became somewhat apprehensive, in spite of the assurance. Hehung back a bit.
"There won't be any danger for you," said Adrian, observing hishesitation. "I'll put you in a safe place, but if a buzzer or two doescome singing around you once in a while just keep perfectly still and itwon't hurt you. In fact it can't get at you with the veil on. You canhave a pair of gloves, too, so every part of you will be protected. Comeon."
Thus assured, though still a trifle doubtful, Roger advanced. As theywalked along the path to the orchard Roger noticed that Adrian carriedwhat looked like a big funnel, on the bottom or large part of which wasa leather bellows.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"To smoke the bees."
"Smoke the bees?"
"Yes; you'll see in a minute."
On the edge of the apiary was a tool house and another building wherethe honey and bee hives were stored in for winter, for here in the northbees cannot exist through the cold weather out of doors. Entering thetool house Adrian collected some small pieces of wood and some shavings,and built a little fire in the tin funnel, to which the bellows wasattached, using the folded leather arrangement to make a good draught.
Adjusting his hat so that the mosquito netting veil hung down all aroundhis head, Adrian started out with the smoke-machine trailing a fleecycloud behind him.
"Come on," he called to Roger, handing him a pair of gloves. "Put theseon. They're rubber, you see, and the bees can't put their stingersthrough them."
"Where's yours?" asked Roger, as he drew the gauntlets well over hiswrists.
"Oh, I couldn't take off honey in gloves. They'd be too clumsy. But Iseldom get stung barehanded, and if I do I don't mind one or two. Gotused to 'em. A little ammonia on the sting takes the pain out."
He kept on toward the cluster of hives, and Roger could not helpnoticing how much his cousin seemed like a diver, with the big headpiece on. He, himself, must look the same, he thought.
"You see," explained Adrian, as he saw Roger glancing curiously at therows of bee houses, "each hive is divided into two parts, top andbottom. In the lower part the bees live, raise their young, and storehoney in what we call the big sections. These are beeswax combs, set inlight wooden frames. In the top part of the hive are several smaller,square, wooden frames, into which the bees build the comb and fill itwith honey. When they have these upper sections filled and capped up, orsealed over, we lift them off and sell them."
"It's rather rough on the bees," observed Roger.
"We always leave them enough," explained Adrian.
As he talked Adrian approached the bee colonies.
"You'd better stay back, now, under that tree," he called to Roger, andthe latter was glad enough not to be asked to go any nearer the hives,from which he could hear a busy, droning hum. He much preferred to watchAdrian from this vantage point.
He saw his cousin come up to one of the bee houses from the rear. Firstthe top cover was carefully lifted off, and this was set on the ground,edge up. Next Adrian lifted up a piece of oilcloth that kept allpossible dampness from the honey. As soon as this was moved aside Rogersaw a black moving mass of bees crawling upward. Adrian quickly took thesmoker and puffed a gentle white cloud of vapor on the insects. In aninstant they melted away, scurrying downward. The smoke irritated themand made them drowsy, and they wanted to get away from its smartingvapor. This made it safe for any one to work about the hive, under theprotection of fumes from the burning wood.
This left free the upper section of the hive, which was filled with capsfull of the clear white, or darker buckwheat honey, the bees beingbelow. Adrian then lifted off the whole top part of the little house,and Roger could see that it contained a number of the full caps, in thiscase there being only the white clover honey. Setting his load down ontop of the hive next to him, Adrian replaced the cover on the firsthive. Then he puffed several more clouds of smoke on the top section hehad just removed, to drive away the few remaining bees that were loathto leave their property.
Adrian carried the section, which contained twenty-four small caps, tothe bee house, and returned to repeat the operation on other hives.Roger looked on with much interest as Adrian worked rapidly.
"Got stung yet?" he called to his busy cousin.
"One nipped me on the finger a bit, but I don't mind that. I'm used toit. Are they bothering you?"
"Well," answered Roger, moving his head from side to side, "some of 'emseem anxious to make my acquaintance, but the veil keeps 'em away. Allthe same they make me nervous."
"We'll soon go inside," called back Adrian. "I'm only going to take offa few more. Then we'll box it and be through."
He removed half a dozen more hive-tops, with the honey-filled sections,each one containing twenty-four pounds of the sweet stuff, a pound to acap. Then, when he had given the few bees that got in the storehouse achance to escape, Adrian prepared to pack the honey for market. To dothis it was first necessary to scrape from each wooden cap, or thesmall, one-pound honey boxes, the beeswax that, here and there, marredthe clean white wood. Roger wanted to help at this, and, as he could doit safely, Adrian got two dull knives, and he and his cousin began.
"Be sure to keep the caps standing on the same end they are on now,"cautioned Adrian.
"Why? What difference does it make?"
"A good deal. If you change 'em around any, and there happens to be somecells that aren't capped over, the honey will run out."
Then Adrian showed Roger that the honey-comb, which is familiar toalmost every one, was composed of a number of openings or cells, shapedlike a hexagon. These cells were double, there being two sets of them,back and front, in each cap, and they were divided down the middle by awall of wax. The wise bees gave to each cell a downward slant towardthis dividing wall, so that when they had filled them with honey thesweet stuff would not run out. Then, as a further precaution, each tinyopening was sealed over with wax. But sometimes the bees neglected toseal up one or two cells in a cap, and unless these particular ones werekept upright, with the openings slanting downward, there would be a finemess.
"These caps are pretty well sealed," observed Adrian, "but you alwa
yshave to be careful," and he was on the lookout to see that no mistakeswere made.
The two boys now busied themselves with scraping off the dried wax fromthe outside of the caps, and, as each one was finished it was placed ina pasteboard box, labelled with the contents "White clover honey," andwith Mr. Kimball's name and address.
"Dad's got a good honey crop this year," commented Adrian. "Plenty ofwhite clover, which sells better than buckwheat, though I don't like itso well as the dark honey."
"What do they call it buckwheat for? Because it's made from buckwheatflour?"
"Land no. Because it's from the sweet juices of the buckwheat flowers.Lots of people say buckwheat honey is too strong for 'em, but we alllike it better than clover, which is made from clover blossoms.Buckwheat seems to have a sort of 'whang' to it, dad says."
"Wa'al, boys, how ye makin' out?" asked a deep voice from the doorway,and Mr. Kimball entered the storeroom.
"All right, I guess," answered Roger.
"Glad t' hear it. We'll make a reg'lar bee-farmer out a' ye 'fore ye githome."
He carefully inspected the boys' work and seemed satisfied with it.
"I guess that'll do fer this trip," he remarked to Adrian, counting thecaps. "Say, Ade," he went on, "how'd you 'n' Roger like t' take a loada' grapes over t' Tully t'-morrow? Andrews wrote me he could use some."
"I thought you were going to take the horses to the city with yourload," replied Adrian.
"So I be, but I'll borrow Truem Wright's hoss 'n' wagon ef ye think yekin git over Tully hill 'ith th' rig. I'd send Jim, th' hired man, onlyI want him t' pick grapes t'-morrow when I'm gone. What d' ye say? Wantt' go?"
"Do you?" asked Adrian of Roger.
"I think it would be lots of fun," replied the city boy. "I'll be gladto go along."
"All right, dad; you go and ask Truem for the horse, and to-night Rogerand I'll load up the wagon so's to start early in the morning," saidAdrian.
"Aren't you boys hungry?" asked some one standing in the doorway, andthey all looked up to see Clara with a big plate of freshly bakedmolasses cookies.
"Hungry? Well, I just guess we are," exclaimed Adrian, as he held theplate and passed it to Roger, who took a cake. Adrian helped himself totwo, and Mr. Kimball was not satisfied with less than three, which hemunched successively with every indication of satisfaction.
"No use talkin'," he said, looking at Roger with a twinkle in his blueeyes, "your aunt does bake the best cookies in Onondaga County," and hetook a fourth one, while Clara laughed merrily to see her father'senjoyment of the little lunch she had provided.
"They are certainly fine," agreed Roger, finishing his second one.
The plate was soon emptied, and Clara offered to go for more, but theyall voted they had enough for the present. Then Mr. Kimball cut open oneof the caps of honey, and he and the boys ate the sweet stuff, which, ashort time before had been in the hive.
"Don't you want some?" asked Roger of Clara, offering her a thick sliceof the comb.
"No, thank you," she replied. "I've eaten so much this last month I'mafraid I'll turn into a bee," and she hurried back to the house with aringing laugh.
It was only four o'clock when the honey had all been packed ready forshipment, and Mr. Kimball left to make arrangements for the tripto-morrow. Adrian, for whom there was no more work that afternoon,proposed to Roger that they take a walk to Truem Wright's grist mill. Sothey tramped up the street to where the mill stood on the edge of apond.
They met quite a number of boys and girls carrying tin pails and books,and most of the youngsters spoke to Adrian as he passed them.
"Where are they from?" asked Roger.
"School's out."
"Oh, sure enough. I'd almost forgotten there was such a thing. But don'tyou go?"
"Not until winter sets in," said Adrian. "You see there's too much to doabout the farm, and then I'm pretty well along in what they teach here.They're going to have a higher class for the older pupils in January,and I'll start in then."
The boys soon came to the mill.
"Hello, Ade!" cried a man, who seemed to be covered from head to footwith white dust. "Heard ye went fishin' yist'day," he went on. "Ketcheda whale, didn't ye?" and he laughed so heartily that he almost shook theside of the building.
"Well, we did have some such luck," admitted Adrian. "But, say, Truem,can we come in? Are you running now? This is my cousin Roger, from NewYork."
"He were th' whale I were referrin' t'," said Mr. Wright, laughingagain.
Roger smiled and bowed to the dusty miller, who held out a huge whitehand for him to shake.
"Yep, come right in," said Mr. Wright, genially. "I'm grindin' a bit a'flour fer George Bennett."
The boys advanced into the dusty place, which shook and trembled withthe whirring vibrations of the two big millstones. They watched thesespinning around, grinding the wheat into a fine, light dust.
"What power does he use?" asked Roger, who was somewhat surprised to seeno sign of an engine.
"Turbine water wheel," said Adrian. "Come along and I'll show you." Heled the way to where, at the bottom of a deep pit, the turbine roaredaround and around with the weight and force of the water that fell on itfrom above, a dam giving the necessary head. This furnished the powerfor the entire mill. It was all very interesting to Roger, who had neverseen anything of the kind. Before he realized how quickly time passed,it was almost the hour for supper, so he and Adrian raced home, bothbearing good appetites.