"How hive in danger?" demanded Elksfoot, who was very much of a
matter-of-fact person. "No see him, no hear him--else get some
honey."
"Honey you can have for asking, for I've plenty of it already in my
cabin, though it's somewhat 'arly in the season to begin to break in
upon the store. In general, the bee-hunters keep back till August,
for they think it better to commence work when the creatures"--this
word Ben pronounced as accurately as if brought up at St. James's,
making it neither "creatur'" nor "creatOOre"--"to commence work when
the creatures have had time to fill up, after winter's feed. But I
like the old stock, and, what is more, I feel satisfied this is not
to be a common summer, and so I thought I would make an early
start."
As Ben said this, he glanced his eyes at Pigeonswing, who returned
the look in a way to prove there was already a secret intelligence
between them, though neither had ever seen the other an hour before.
"Waal!" exclaimed Gershom, "this is cur'ous, I'll allow THAT; yes,
it's cur'ous--but we've got an article at Whiskey Centre that'll put
the sweetest honey bee ever suck'd, altogether out o' countenance!"
"An article of which you suck your share, I'll answer for it,
judging by the sign you carry between the windows of your face,"
returned Ben, laughing; "but hush, men, hush.
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