“Waal,” said Gershom, in his drawling way, when le Bourdon had taken a long look with the glass, “I don’t see much use in spy-glassin’ in that fashion.  Spy-glassin’ may do out on the lake, if a body has only the tools to do it with; but here, in the openin’s, nature’s eyes is about as good as them a body buys in the stores.”

“Take a look at them bees, and see what a fret they’re in,” returned Ben, handing the glass to his companion.  “As long as I’ve been in the business, I’ve never seen a colony in such a fever.  Commonly, a few hours after the bees find that their tree is down, and their plans broken into, they give it up, and swarm; looking for a new hive, and setting about the making more food for the next winter; but here are all the bees yet, buzzing above the hole, as if they meant to hold out for a siege.”

“There’s an onaccountable grist on ’em”—­Gershom was never very particular in his figures of speech, usually terming anything in quantities a’grist”; and meaning in the present instance by “onaccountable,” a number not to be counted—­“an onaccountable grist on ’em, I can tell you, and if you mean to charge upon sich enemies, you must look out for somebody besides Whiskey Centre for your vanguard.  What in natur’ has got into the critters!  They can’t expect to set that tree on its legs ag’in!”

“Do you see a flight of them just in the edge of the for-est—­here, more to the southward?” demanded le Bourdon.

“Sure enough!  There is a lot on ’em there, too, and they seem to be comin’ and goin’ to the tree, like folks”—­Gershom would put his noun of multitude into the plural, Nova-Anglice—­“comin’ and goin’ like folks carryin’ water to a fire.  A body would think, by the stir among ’em, them critters’ barrel was empty!”

“The bears are there,” coolly returned the bee-hunter; “I’ve seen such movements before, and know how to account for them.  The bears are in the thicket, but don’t like to come out in the face of such a colony.  I have heard of bears being chased miles by bees, when their anger was up!”

“Mortality!  They have a good deal of dander (dandruff) for sich little vipers!  But what are we to do, Bourdon? for Doll and Blossom must taste that honey!  Half’s mine, you know, and I don’t like to give it up.”

The bee-hunter smiled at the coolness with which Gershom assigned to himself so large a portion of his property; though he did not think it worth his while, just then, to “demur to his declaration,” as the lawyers might have it.  There was a sort of border rule, which gave all present equal shares in any forest captures; just as vessels in sight come in for prize-money, taken in time of war by public cruisers.  At any rate, the honey of a single tree was not of sufficient value to induce a serious quarrel about it.  If there should be any extra trouble or danger in securing the present prize, every craft in view might, fairly enough, come in for its share.