The Arkansaw Bear Part 10

The Bear walked along some distance in silence. The boy was also thinking and singing softly to himself. He was very happy. Presently he looked up and saw just ahead, in a field near the road, a tree loaded with oranges.

"Look, Ratio!" he said. "Don't you wish we had some of those?"

The Bear looked up and began to lick out his tongue.

"Climb over and get some, Bo," he said eagerly.

"Not much. I haven't forgotten the roasting ears and the watermelon we got from old man Todd in Arkansaw. We might go to the house and ask for some.

"Nonsense, Bosephus. Watch me!"

He handed Bo the fiddle, and running lightly to the hedge cleared it at a bound.

"Fine!" shouted Bo.

Horatio, without pausing, hurried over to the tree.

"Funny they should leave those oranges so late," thought the little boy as he watched him.

Swinging himself to the first limb, the Bear shook off a lot of the fine yellow fruit, and climbing down, gathered in his arms all he could carry. As he did so there came a loud barking of dogs, and without looking behind him he started to run. He dropped a few of the oranges, but kept straight on, the two huge dogs that had appeared getting closer and closer. As he reached the hedge he once more made a grand leap, but the oranges prevented him doing so well as before. His foot caught in the top branches and he rolled over and over in the dusty road, the oranges flying in every direction. The dogs behind the hedge barked and raged.

Horatio rose, dusty and panting, but triumphant.

"You see, Bo," he said, "what it is to be brave. You can fill your pockets now with these delicious oranges."

He picked up one as he spoke, and brushing off the dust, bit it in half cheerfully. Then Bo, who was watching him, saw a strange thing take place. The half orange flew out of the Bear's mouth as from a popgun, and his face became so distorted that the boy thought his friend was having a spasm. Suddenly he whirled, and making a rush at the fallen oranges, began to kick them in every direction, coughing and spitting every second. The two dogs looking over the hedge stopped barking to enjoy the fun. One of the oranges rolled to Bo's feet. He picked it up and smelled it. Then rubbing it on his coat he bit into it. It was not a large bite, but it was enough. The tears rolled from his eyes and every tooth in his head jumped. Such a mixture of stinging sour and bitter he had never dreamed of. It grabbed him by the throat and shook him until his bones cracked. The top of his head seemed coming loose, and his ears fairly snapped. Then he realized what Horatio must be suffering, and laughed in spite of himself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLEW OUT OF HIS MOUTH AS FROM A POP GUN.]

"They are mock oranges, Ratio," he shouted, "and they are mocking us for stealing them!"

Horatio had seated himself by the roadside and was snorting and clawing at his tongue.

"I must have some honey, Bo," he said, "to take away that dreadful taste. You must find me some honey, Bo."

"You see, Ratio," said the little boy, "it doesn't pay to take things."

"Bosephus," said the Bear, "a man who will plant a tree like that so near the road deceives wilfully and should be punished."

They walked along slowly, the two dogs barking after them from behind the hedge.

Just beyond the next bend in the road a beautiful plantation came into view. They turned into the cane yard and immediately the workhands surrounded them. Horatio felt better by this time, and they began a performance. First Bo sang and then Horatio gave a gymnastic exhibition.

Then at last Bo sang a closing verse as follows:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Now our little show is ended, and we hope you think it splendid, And we trust we've not offended or displeased you anywhere,

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

You have paid us to be funny, and we thank you for the money, But I'd like a little honey for the Old--Black--Bear.

Horatio smiled when he heard this, and the planter who was listening sent one of the servants to the house. He came out soon with a piece of fresh honey on a plate. He offered it to Horatio, who handed Bo the violin, and seizing the plate, swallowed the honey at one gulp. This made the crowd shout and laugh, and then Bo shook hands with the planter and said good-bye, and all the darkies came up and wanted to shake hands, too. When he had shaken hands all around the little boy turned to look for Horatio. He was nowhere in sight. The others had not noticed him slip away.

Bo was troubled. When Horatio disappeared like that it meant mischief.

He had promised reform as to pickaninnies, but Bo was never quite sure.

He was about to ask the people to run in every direction in search of his comrade when there was a sudden commotion in the back door yard, and a moment later a black figure dashed through the gate with something under its arm. It was Horatio! The crowd of darkies took one look and scattered. The thing under Horatio's arm was a square, box looking affair, and out of it was streaming a black, living cloud.

"Bees!" shouted the people as they fled. "Bees! Bees!"

Bo understood instantly. The taste of honey had made Horatio greedy for more. He had gone in search of it and returned with hive and all. There was a clump of tall weeds just behind the little boy, and he dropped down into them. They hid him from view, and none too soon, for the Bear dashed past, snorting and striking at the swarm of stingers that not only covered him, but fiercely attacked everything in sight. Howls began to come from some of the hands that had failed to find shelter in time, and Bo, peeping out between the weeds, saw half a dozen darkies frantically trying to open the big door of the sugar house, which had been hastily closed by those within, while the angry bees were pelting furiously at the unfortunates.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BEAR DASHED PAST, SNORTING.]

As for Horatio, he was coated with bees that were trying to sting through his thick fur. He did not mind them at first, but presently they began to get near his eyes. With a snarl he dropped the hive and began to paw and strike with both hands. Then they swarmed about him worse than ever, and, half blinded, he began to run around and around with no regard as to direction. Every darky in sight fled like the wind.

Some of them ran out of the gate and down the road, and without seeing them, perhaps, the Bear suddenly leaped the fence and set out in the same direction. Glancing back, they saw him coming and began to shriek and scatter into the fields.

Bo waited some minutes; then, noticing that the maddened insects were no longer buzzing viciously over him, he crept out and followed. He still held the violin and was glad enough to get away from the plantation. The bees had followed the fugitive, and the boy kept far enough behind to be out of danger. By and by he met bees coming back, but perhaps they were tired or thought he belonged to another crowd, for they did not molest him. A mile further on he found Horatio sitting in the road rocking and groaning and throwing dust on himself. His eyes and nose were swollen in great knots, and his ears were each puffed up like little balloons. The bees had left him, but his sorrow was at its height.

"h.e.l.lo, Ratio! Having fun all alone?" asked Bo as he came up.

"Oh, Bo, this has been an awful day!" was the wailing reply. "First those terrible oranges and then these millions and millions of murderous bees. And now I am blind, Bo, and dying. Tell me, Bo, how do I look?"

"Oh, you look all right. Your nose looks like a big potato and your ears like two little ones. I can't tell you how your eyes are, for they don't show, but your whole skin looks as if it had been stuffed full of apples and put on in a hurry."

"Bo," said Horatio meekly, "did you bring the fiddle?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE FOUND HORATIO SITTING IN THE ROAD, ROCKING AND GROANING.]

"Well, yes; I thought it might happen that we'd need it again."

Horatio put out his paw for it. The boy gave it to him and he ran the bow gently over the strings.

"Sing, Bo," he pleaded. "Sing that song about jasmine and cypress and climbing roses. It will soothe me. Sing about girls, too, if you want to, but leave out the oranges, Bo, and put in something else besides honey in the last line."

"Ratio," said Bo, "you've got a touch of the swamp fever. Let me see your tongue!"

CHAPTER IX

IN JAIL AT LAST

"Oh, the sky is blue and the sun is high, And the days roll 'round, and the weeks go by----"

"BO," interrupted Horatio, softly; "what's that over there on the bank that looks like a man all in a wad?"