Hazel Squirrel and Other Stories Part 2

Do you think their mothers were glad to see them once more? Well, was your mother glad to see you that day she thought you were lost, when you really were not? And if you still want to know if Bushy-Tail ever found the wonderful tree where all kinds of nuts grew side by side on the same branch, all I can tell you is that they never found it in the park and that they never ran away again.

THE RACc.o.o.n AND THE BEES

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RACc.o.o.n WATCHES THE BOYS]

A racc.o.o.n was dozing, perched up in a big tree one fine, bright summer day. He lay on a broad limb high up in the tree. There was a fresh breeze stirring, and he swayed to and fro with the branches.

He had been rocking on this lofty perch for some time, with his eyes half closed, when he was roused by the shouting of some small, bare-footed boys who were playing in a hayfield close by. c.o.o.nie, as he was called for short, after yawning and stretching for some minutes, finally s.h.i.+fted his position so as to see the boys. He had watched them often from the top of a tree, and he always enjoyed the fun, because they did such queer things.

It was some minutes before he could find out what they were doing, but at last he discovered that they had found a b.u.mble-bees' nest. They had long paddles in their hands and were running around, yelling, and waving the paddles frantically. Occasionally one of the boys screamed, and then several of the others would run toward him, all beating the air with their paddles.

c.o.o.nie watched very closely and saw one boy run up to the hive, give it a quick poke, and then scamper away. With every poke at the hive, a number of bees would fly out of the opening and sail away on the air.

Finally a small boy approached the hive and gave it a hard poke.

Instantly about a dozen bees swarmed out, and the boy started to run. He had gone but half a dozen feet, however, when he tripped and fell, and by the way he rolled and kicked, it was plain to be seen that the bees were getting the better of him.

It was great fun watching them, and c.o.o.nie decided that he would get a nearer view, so he crawled down the tree in a hurry and ran to the big oak at the edge of the field. From there he could get a full view of the battle. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the fun he was having all by himself.

The battle between the boys and the bees was raging furiously by this time. The boys charged time after time, and with each attack became bolder and bolder, until finally c.o.o.nie saw that they were winning. The plucky little bees fought bravely to defend their home, but the boys were too strong for them, and one by one they fell and were crushed or beaten to pieces with the paddles.

After two or three pokes at the hive to make sure that none of the bees remained, a great shout went up from the boys who surrounded the deserted nest.

Children, have you ever seen a wild bees' nest--a real b.u.mble-bees'

home?

They are nearly always built on the ground, and are made of little pieces of gra.s.s piled and woven together into a little mound. At the very top there is a small hole which is used as the doorway through which the bees enter. The wall is not very thick, but is put together tightly so the wind will not blow it away, and it is hollow.

It is in this mound that the bees store their honey for the winter.

During the warm summer days they work hard, carrying tiny drops of honey which they gather from the flowers and storing it so they will have something to eat during the cold weather.

When the cold winds come, in the fall and winter, and the flowers are dead, the little workers stop their labor and gather together in the home they have been preparing all summer. When the snow comes, the little gra.s.s storehouse is buried snug and warm underneath the white blanket.

It was just such a nest as this that c.o.o.nie watched the boys robbing of its treasure. Poor little bees! All their hard work had been in vain, and they had even lost their little lives in the brave effort to protect their winter's food supply.

But even from his hiding place c.o.o.nie could see that the boys had not won the battle without some losses. Big lumps were beginning to swell up on their faces and arms, and the little boy who had tripped and fallen could hardly see because his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

The boys tore away the mound and took out the honey, layer by layer, and squeezed out the golden syrup. Just as they were licking the last drops from their sticky fingers, c.o.o.nie saw a man walking towards them. When he was near enough, he began talking to them in an angry way.

"Why, Mr. Jones," c.o.o.nie heard one boy say, "you don't use b.u.mble-bees'

honey, do you?"

"No, boys, I don't use the honey myself, but I don't want you to kill the bees or rob their nests so they will have to starve. Bees do a great deal of good on the farm."

"What good are b.u.mble-bees?" one of the boys asked.

"Why, they do a lot of good. They distribute the pollen from the heads of the clover, and that makes the seed mature and develop."

This was news to c.o.o.nie, for he never knew before that b.u.mble-bees were of any use, but then he had never had much to do with them. One day when he was playing he had caught a bee in his little paws and had received a sting, and he never forgot how sore his paws were and how they swelled so that he was unable to climb for several days. Since that time he had always made it a practice to move away when a bee came too close.

After the boys were gone and Farmer Jones had gone back to his house, c.o.o.nie decided that he would go over to the field and see what the inside of the bees' nest looked like.

As he approached the field where the battle had taken place, much to his surprise, he saw his friend Woodchuck snooping around among the ruins.

When c.o.o.nie reached him, he sat up on his hind feet and began licking his paws.

"h.e.l.lo, Chuck," c.o.o.nie said. "What are you doing? Why, your face is a sight. My, such a dirty face. Why, Chuck, I am surprised," and he noticed the greedy look in Chuck's eyes.

"Yum! yum!" was the only reply he received and Chuck began picking around in the gra.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YUM, YUM, BUT IT IS FINE"]

"I say, Chuck," c.o.o.nie said again, "what are you doing?"

"Doing?" echoed Chuck. "Why, this is the best food I have had for a long time, c.o.o.nie. My face may be a little sticky, but it can be washed, so I don't care. Such a treat as I have had! I am sorry you missed it all. I saw some boys capering and scampering around here this afternoon, and as soon as they left I came over to see what it was all about, and this is what I found," and Chuck held up a small yellow pod. "Just taste one, c.o.o.nie, it is sweeter than any berry I ever tasted. Yum, yum, but it is fine."

"Hum!" sniffed c.o.o.nie. "It may suit your taste, but honey is much too sticky for me."

"Well, I'm glad you don't want any," Chuck replied. "You always were rather particular, but I am only Chuck anyhow, and as some people call me a hog--a ground-hog, you know--I might as well live up to my name."

"But, Chuck, just go down to the brook and look at your face."

Chuck, seeing that his supply of sweets was exhausted, did as c.o.o.nie suggested and waddled toward the brook, c.o.o.nie accompanying him.

As Chuck was was.h.i.+ng his face and paws, c.o.o.nie remarked that he knew where there was plenty of the kind of honey Chuck had been feasting on.

"Only," he added, "it is much cleaner than what you have been eating."

"Oh, c.o.o.nie, tell me where it is, won't you, please?" cried Chuck, stopping his toilet and catching up c.o.o.nie's paw. "I just dearly love it, and I'll be your lifelong friend if you will tell me where it is so I can get some more."

Now c.o.o.nie felt very mischievous, and he thought of a plan that would give him some fun.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "OH, c.o.o.nIE TELL ME WHERE IT IS"]

"Why, Chuck," he replied, "you would not expect me to tell you where all this honey is, would you? You would go eat it all up in one night.

You are such a 'hoggie' you know."

"Oh, be a good friend, c.o.o.nie, and tell me. If you only knew how badly I want some more."

"Well, I'll tell you," c.o.o.nie said, "but there may be some danger in getting it."

"I'll never stop for the danger," Chuck boasted.

"You remember Farmer Jones, don't you?"

"I should say I do. I'll never forget the whole family. Do you remember the time we were caught stealing the corn in his crib last fall? And, oh, that fierce dog! Indeed, I never will forget him. If it is Farmer Jones' honey, it is perfectly safe, for it makes me s.h.i.+ver to even think of that dog, Jack."

"Oh, I knew that you would be afraid," taunted c.o.o.nie. "Tomorrow is Sat.u.r.day, and the Jones always go to town on Sat.u.r.day. I have been planning to go over and give myself a little treat."