stooped to his work again, saying, "And nobody never asks
nobody to have so much as a drop o' beer."

"I'll fetch you some beer, Sam, if you'll go with us," said Harry.

But Sam didn't want any beer. Oh, no! He could do his work without
beer. He never did do more than wet his lips; and so on. But Sam had
given up the key of his fortress, and very soon Harry had been up to the
house to fetch a jug of foaming, country, home-brewed ale, such as would
really refresh the old man in his toil; for the day had set in
excessively hot, and bade fair to become worse--if such an expression is
not a contradiction. So Harry took the cool jug up to the old man, but
"No! he didn't want beer!"

But he did, though he would not own to it, and what was more, he wanted
coaxing; and until he was coaxed, Sam growled away as much as ever, and
weeded his onions.

"I say, Sam," said Harry, with a knowing grin upon his countenance, and
pushing the jug just under the old man's nose, "I say, how good it
smells!"

Sam couldn't help it, he got a good whiff of the foaming ale in his
nostrils, and he surrendered, sighed, and stretched out his hand for the
jug, and then took such a hearty draught, that it seemed as though he
never wanted to breathe again.

"Ha-a-a-a," said Sam at last, with a comical look at Harry.

"Shall I fetch you the wedges, Sam?" said Harry.

"Eh?" said Sam.

"Shall I fetch the wedges?" said Harry again.

Sam did not answer for a minute, for his face was buried in the beer
jug; but when he took it away again, he gave another sigh, wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand, and then said in a very different tone
of voice to the one he had spoken in before--

"Well, I 'spose you may as well."

So the wedges and the great mallet were soon fetched, when they all went
off to the fallen willow, which soon gave way to the blows bestowed upon
it, and displayed a large hollow containing the papery nest of the
wasps.

Fred gazed with astonishment at the curious structure, with its
innumerable cells, many of which contained the grubs mentioned in
connection with the fishing excursion. The poor wasps were lying dead
by the hundred, and were shaken out, brushed into a heap, and then
buried by Sam, who seemed to have an idea that, if this latter process
were not attended to, they would most probably come to life again.
There was no fear of that, however, for the suffocating had been most
effectually performed, and not a