, however, who did not eat grass,
was inside the wall, seated on a stone which Turkey had no doubt
dragged there for her. Trust both her and Turkey, the cow should not
have a mouthful without leave of my father. Elsie was as usual busy
with her knitting. And now I caught sight of Turkey, running from a
neighbouring cottage with a spade over his shoulder. Elsie had been
minding the cows for him.
"What's ado, Turkey?" I cried, running to meet him.
"Such a wild bees' nest!" answered Turkey. "I'm so glad you're come! I
was just thinking whether I wouldn't run and fetch you. Elsie and I
have been watching them going out and in for the last half-hour.--Such
lots of bees! There's a store of honey _there_."
"But isn't it too soon to take it, Turkey? There'll be a great deal
more in a few weeks.--Not that I know anything about bees," I added
deferentially.
"You're quite right, Ranald," answered Turkey; "but there are several
things to be considered. In the first place, the nest is by the
roadside, and somebody else might find it. Next, Elsie has never
tasted honey all her life, and it _is_ so nice, and here she is, all
ready to eat some. Thirdly, and lastly, as your father says--though
not very often," added Turkey slyly, meaning that the _lastly_ seldom
came with the _thirdly_,--"if we take the honey now, the bees will
have plenty of time to gather enough for the winter before the flowers
are gone, whereas if we leave it too long they will starve."
I was satisfied with this reasoning, and made no further objection.
"You must keep a sharp look-out though, Ranald," he said; "for they'll
be mad enough, and you must keep them off with your cap."
He took off his own, and gave it to Elsie, saying: "Here, Elsie: you
must look out, and keep off the bees. I can tell you a sting is no
joke. I've had three myself."
"But what are _you_ to do, Turkey?" asked Elsie, with an anxious face.
"Oh, Ranald will keep them off me and himself too. I shan't heed them.
I must dig away, and get at the honey."
All things being thus arranged, Turkey manfully approached the _dyke_,
as they call any kind of wall-fence there. In the midst of the grass
and moss was one little hole, through which the bees kept going and
coming very busily. Turkey put in his finger and felt in what
direction the hole went, and thence judging the position of the hoard,
struck his spade with firm foot into the dyke. What bees were in came
rushing out in fear
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