Джеймс Фенимор Купер - The Oak Openings; or the Bee-Hunter

“There’s game in the wind,” answered Whiskey Centre, who had a good knowledge of most of the craft of border life, notwithstanding his ungovernable propensity to drink, and who, by nature, was both shrewd and resolute. “I shouldn’t wonder” – a common expression of his class – “if we found bears prowling about that honey!”

“Such things have happened in my time,” answered the bee-hunter, “and twice in my experience I’ve been driven from the field, and forced to let the devils get my ‘arnin’s.”

“That was when you had no comrade, stranger” returned Gershom, raising a rifle, and carefully examining its flint and its priming. “It will be a large family on ‘em that drives us from that tree; for my mind is made up to give Doll and Blossom a taste of the sweets.”

If this was said imprudently, as respects ownership in the prize, it was said heartily, so far as spirit and determination were concerned. It proved that Whiskey Centre had points about him which, if not absolutely redeeming, served in some measure to lessen the disgust which one might other-wise have felt for his character. The bee-hunter knew that there was a species of hardihood that belonged to border men as the fruits of their habits, and, apparently, he had all necessary confidence in Gershom’s disposition to sustain him, should there be occasion for a conflict with his old enemies.

The first measure of the bee-hunter, after landing and securing his boat, was to quiet Hive. The animal being under excellent command, this was soon done; the mastiff maintaining the position assigned him in the rear, though evidently impatient to be let loose. Had not le Bourdon known the precise position of the fallen tree, and through that the probable position of his enemies, he would have placed the mastiff in advance, as a pioneer or scout; but he deemed it necessary, under the actual circumstances, to hold him as a reserve, or a force to be directed whither occasion might require. With this arrangement, then, le Bourdon and Whiskey Centre advanced, side by side, each carrying two pieces, from the margin of the river toward the open land that commanded a view of the tree. On reaching the desired point, a halt was called, in order to reconnoitre.

The reader will remember that the bee-elm had stood on the edge of a dense thicket, or swamp, in which the trees grew to a size several times exceeding those of the oaks in the openings; and le Bourdon had caused it to fall upon the open ground, in order to work at the honey with greater ease to himself. Consequently, the fragments lay in full view of the spot where the halt was made. A little to Gershom’s surprise, Ben now produced his spy-glass, which he levelled with much earnestness toward the tree. The bee-hunter, however, well knew his business, and was examining into the state of the insects whom he had so violently invaded the night before. The air was filled with them, flying above and around the tree; a perfect cloud of the little creatures hovering directly over the hole, as if to guard its treasure.

“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 prizemoney, 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.

“Doll shall not be forgotten, if we can only house our honey,” answered the bee-hunter; “nor Blossom, neither. I’ve a fancy, already, for that blossom of the wilderness, and shall do all I can to make myself agreeable to her. A man cannot approach a maiden with anything sweeter than honey.”

“Some gals like sugar’d words better; but, let me tell you one thing, STRANger-”

“You have eaten bread and salt with me, Whiskey, and both are scarce articles in a wilderness; and you’ve slept under my roof: is it not almost time to call me something else than stranger?”

“Well, Bourdon, if you prefer that name; though STRANger is a name I like, it has sich an up and off sound to it. When a man calls all he sees STRANgers, it’s a sign he don’t let the grass grow in the road for want of movin’; and a movin’ man for me, any day, before your stationaries. I was born on the seashore, in the Bay State; and here I am, up among the fresh-water lakes, as much nat’ralized as any muskelunge that was ever cotch’d in Huron, or about Mackinaw. If I can believe my eyes, Bourdon, there is the muzzle of a bear to be seen, jist under that heavy hemlock – here, where the bees seem thickest!”

“No doubt in the world,” answered le Bourdon, coolly; though he had taken the precaution to look to the priming of each of his pieces, as if he expected there would soon be occasion to use them. “But what was that you were about to say concernin’ Blossom? It would not be civil to the young woman to overlook her, on account of a bear or two.”

“You take it easy, STRANger – Bourdon, I should say – you take it easy! What I was about to say was this: that the whull lake country, and that’s a wide stretch to foot it over, I know; but, big as it is, the whull lake country don’t contain Blossom’s equal. I’m her brother, and perhaps ought to be a little modest in sich matters; but I an’t a bit, and let out jist what I think. Blossom’s a di’mond, if there be di’monds on ‘arth.”