On the Track | Page 9

burning acid had got into that
bottle, or the label had been put on, or left on, in mistake or
carelessness.
"I dunno," said Mitchell, "but there's no harm in tryin'."
I chanced it. I lay down on my back in a bunk, and Mitchell dragged
my lids up and spilt half a bottle of eye-water over my eye-balls.
The relief was almost instantaneous. I never experienced such a quick
cure in my life. I carried the bottle in my swag for a long time
afterwards, with an idea of getting it analysed, but left it behind at last
in a camp.
Mitchell scratched his head thoughtfully, and watched me for a while.
"I think I'll wait a bit longer," he said at last, "and if it doesn't blind you
I'll put some in my eyes. I'm getting a touch of blight myself now.
That's the fault of travelling with a mate who's always catching

something that's no good to him."
As it grew dark outside we talked of sandy-blight and fly-bite, and
sand-flies up north, and ordinary flies, and branched off to Barcoo rot,
and struck the track again at bees and bee stings. When we got to bees,
Mitchell sat smoking for a while and looking dreamily backwards
along tracks and branch tracks, and round corners and circles he had
travelled, right back to the short, narrow, innocent bit of track that ends
in a vague, misty point -- like the end of a long, straight, cleared road in
the moonlight -- as far back as we can remember.
. . . . .
"I had about fourteen hives," said Mitchell -- "we used to call them
`swarms', no matter whether they were flying or in the box -- when I
left home first time. I kept them behind the shed, in the shade, on tables
of galvanised iron cases turned down on stakes; but I had to make legs
later on, and stand them in pans of water, on account of the ants. When
the bees swarmed -- and some hives sent out the Lord knows how
many swarms in a year, it seemed to me -- we'd tin-kettle 'em, and
throw water on 'em, to make 'em believe the biggest thunderstorm was
coming to drown the oldest inhabitant; and, if they didn't get the start of
us and rise, they'd settle on a branch -- generally on one of the scraggy
fruit trees. It was rough on the bees -- come to think of it; their instinct
told them it was going to be fine, and the noise and water told them it
was raining. They must have thought that nature was mad, drunk, or
gone ratty, or the end of the world had come. We'd rig up a table, with
a box upside down, under the branch, cover our face with a piece of
mosquito net, have rags burning round, and then give the branch a
sudden jerk, turn the box down, and run. If we got most of the bees in,
the rest that were hanging to the bough or flying round would follow,
and then we reckoned we'd shook the queen in. If the bees in the box
came out and joined the others, we'd reckon we hadn't shook the queen
in, and go for them again. When a hive was full of honey we'd turn the
box upside down, turn the empty box mouth down on top of it, and
drum and hammer on the lower box with a stick till all the bees went up
into the top box. I suppose it made their heads ache, and they went up
on that account.
"I suppose things are done differently on proper bee-farms. I've heard
that a bee-farmer will part a hanging swarm with his fingers, take out

the queen bee and arrange matters with her; but our ways suited us, and
there was a lot of expectation and running and excitement in it,
especially when a swarm took us by surprise. The yell of `Bees
swarmin'!' was as good to us as the yell of `Fight!' is now, or `Bolt!' in
town, or `Fire' or `Man overboard!' at sea.
"There was tons of honey. The bees used to go to the vineyards at
wine-making and get honey from the heaps of crushed grape-skins
thrown out in the sun, and get so drunk sometimes that they wobbled in
their bee-lines home. They'd fill all the boxes, and then build in
between and under the bark, and board, and tin covers. They never
seemed to get the idea out of their heads that this wasn't an evergreen
country, and it wasn't going to snow all winter. My younger brother Joe
used to put pieces of meat on the tables near the boxes, and in front