one,
there would not be much honey left for the old Squire and me. But we got
a taste of it, and very good honey it was.

Our victory over the Egyptians, however, was not yet complete. Either
because the smoke was now clearing up, or because they smelled the honey
that we were eating, they began to come round to the front end of the
house, where they hovered over the people and darted down savagely at
them. Outcries arose; men and women tried frantically to brush the
insects away. Horses out at the sheds began to squeal. More bees were
coming round every moment--the angriest bees I have ever seen! They
stung wherever they touched. Judge Peters and Mr. Bliss were fighting
the insects with both hands; and Uncle Hannibal, too, was pawing the
air, with guffaws of laughter.

"The Egyptians are getting the best of us!" he cried. "We had better
retire in as good order as we can--or it will be another Bull Run!"

Retreat was clearly the part of discretion, and so the whole gathering
streamed away down the road to a safe distance. In fact, there was a
pretty lively time before all of the people had unhitched their teams
and got away. But in spite of many bee stings it had been a very
hilarious meeting; and it is safe to say that all who were at the
Methodist chapel that afternoon wanted Uncle Hannibal for Senator.

The old Squire drove home with his guests to supper; Addison and I
gathered up our brooms and bee smoker and followed them.

At supper Uncle Hannibal asked us to tell him more about those Egyptian
bees, of which he had never heard before; and after the meal he went out
to see the colonies in the garden. He walked up to a hive and boldly
caught one of the bees between his thumb and forefinger. Holding it
fast, he picked up a pea pod for it to sting, so that he could see how
long a stinger it had.

"Ah, but that is a cruel chap!" he said. "You'll have to use brimstone,
I guess, to get those Egyptians out of the meetinghouse."

In point of fact, brimstone was what two of the church stewards did use,
a few weeks later, before there were services at the chapel again; but
they did not find much honey left.

CHAPTER XXI

THAT MYSTERIOUS DAGUERREOTYPE SALOON

For two years our young neighbor Catherine had been carrying on a little
industry that had proved fairly lucrative--namely, gathering and curing
wild herbs and selling them to drug stores in Portland. Her grandmother
had taught her how to cure and pr