Squire, but I've come over to
see if I can't borry a boy to hark fer me."

It was old Hughy Glinds, who lived alone in a little cabin at the edge
of the great woods, and who gained a livelihood by making baskets and
snowshoes, lining bees and turning oxbows. In his younger days he had
been a noted trapper, bear hunter and moose hunter, but now he was too
infirm and rheumatic to take long tramps in the woods.

The old Squire went to the door. "Come in, Glinds," he said.

"No, Squire, I don't believe I will while ye're eatin'. I jest wanted to
see if I could borry one of yer boys this forenoon. I've got a swarm of
bees lined over to whar the old-growth woods begin, and if I'm to git
'em I've got to foller my line on amongst tall trees and knock; and
lately, Squire, I'm gettin' so blamed deaf I snum I can't hear a bee
buzz if he's right close to my head! So I come over to see if I could
git a boy to go with me and hark when I knock on the trees."

"Why, yes, Glinds," said the old Squire, "one of the boys may go with
you. That is, he may if he wants to," he added, turning to us.

Addison said that he had something else he wished to do that forenoon.
Halstead and I both offered our services; but for some reason old Glinds
decided that I had better go. Grandmother Ruth objected at first and
went out to talk with the old fellow. "I'm afraid you'll let him get
stung or let a tree fall on him!" she said.

Old Hughy tried to reassure her. "I'll be keerful of him, marm. I
promise ye, marm, the boy shan't be hurt. I'm a-goin' to stifle them
bees, marm, and pull out all their stingers." And the old man laughed
uproariously.

Grandmother Ruth shook her head doubtfully; old Hughy's reputation for
care and strict veracity was not of the best.

When I went to get ready for the jaunt grandmother charged me to be
cautious and not to go into any dangerous places, and before I left the
house she gave me a pair of gloves and an old green veil to protect my
head.

Before starting for the woods we had to go to old Hughy's cabin to get
two pails for carrying the honey and a kettle and a roll of brimstone
for "stifling" the bees. As we passed the Murch farm the old man told me
that he had tried to get Willis, who stood watching us in the dooryard,
to go with him to listen for the bees. "But what do you think!" he
exclaimed with assumed indignation. "That covetous little whelp wouldn't
stir a step to help me unless I'd agree to give hi