CHAPTER XXII

A TALK ON BEES

Steve and his friends were received with the greatest cordiality; first, because Steve was known to the family and liked by them, and secondly, because hospitality is natural--in fact, seems born in a Boer. You will arrive at a farmhouse--poor or rich--you are one of the so-called hated nation--a _rooi nek_ (nickname given to Englishmen because their tender skin causes their necks to blister and turn red in the hot South African sun, literally meaning ‘red nek’)--unknown; at the door you meet a youngster just able to talk. You will dismount. This premature young man will come up to you with an air of--_playing the host_ about him, will take hold of your hand, give it a shake, and say,--

‘Wil Oom nie afzaal nie?’ (Will uncle saddle off?)

Yes you will.

‘Well, then, uncle can walk just right in and have a cup of coffee; I will see to the horse.’

Well, as I said, our young friends were well received, and soon found themselves seated around a supper table, as well laid and as well provisioned as man’s heart could desire in such a locality. Roast beef, stewed guinea-fowl, leg of venison, stuffed with bacon and baked vegetables, salads, etc., custard pudding, blanc mange, fresh butter, cheese, etc., washed down with coffee, and such coffee as only a _Tante_ knows how to brew, and that Java coffee too. After supper, the party adjourned to the sitting-room, where they were soon followed by the _Tante_, after she had seen to the servants getting their food, and the remnants of the supper had been safely put away.

‘Now, Stephaans,’ said she to Steve, ‘you or your friends must come and look at a bee-hive that a _winkelier_ (shopkeeper) made me buy in town last week. It is one of those new-fangled patent things. Its inside is full of pieces of wood--goodness only knows what for. They say it is better than just an empty box for the bees. I don’t understand it. Do you or any of your friends understand it?’

Now Steve saw a chance to distinguish himself in the way he liked to do--by being useful. Apiarian books had been among his favourite studies, so he knew all about it, having always kept one or more hives for study and also for--honey.

‘Well, _Tante_, if you will send for the hive, I shall explain all about it to you.’

The hive came, and Steve surprised even his companions by the learned dissertation he gave on bees and bee-keeping. He surprised the simple old gentleman and his lady almost into disbelief, when he told them the queen was the mother of all the bees in the hive; that she was only a fully developed female bee, reared from the self-same egg from which the worker bee is raised, and that she is only made a queen by over feeding and by giving her more space to grow out in in the cell. That the drones, or, as they called them in Dutch, _water-carriers_, are not water-carriers, but that they are, in fact, great, lazy, good-for-nothing male bees, who love to live on what the females earned in the fields, and absolutely refuse to do any work (as so many of their sex, even in the human race, delight to do); that, in fact, they were unable to do any work--not being built that way; but were only called into existence to be husbands to the young queens, which may be raised during the season for the purpose of sending out swarms, and thus obey the command of the Creator when He said, ‘Go forth and multiply.’

But their surprise reached its climax, when he told them that he could make the bees manufacture a queen for themselves, should they be queenless, by simply giving them eggs or larvæ to make her from; that, in fact, he could force them to make as many queens to his order as he liked by simple manipulation, and that he could thus make three or four swarms of bees out of one in a season. He tried to explain to them all this, and by explaining the why and the wherefore, he soon got them to believe and understand him. He also showed them how to fix and wire the wax foundation in the frames, and thus spare the poor bees a lot of work; also told them how, by the use of an extractor, they could extract all the honey from the combs without breaking the comb, and thus save the bees the time and expense of wax to rebuild it. ‘All you have to do is to replace the empty comb in the hive, when the bees refill it.’

The Oom and Tante were especially pleased when it was explained to them that by the use of the modern hive they were spared the cruel necessity of destroying any of the young bees or brood, when taking the honey out, or, as it is truthfully called, _robbing the hive_, and that the honey reserved for the use of man was pure, without young bees or pollen (bee bread).

From bee-keeping the conversation drifted to gardening, vegetable and flower, as well as fruit culture, in all of which Steve was an adept. He told the Tante of so many new modes of grafting and pruning, that she exclaimed he talked like a book.

In this way it happened, that Steve gained the friendship and respect of all the country people he came across. He could talk to them of things they understood and which interested them--matters concerning their everyday life.