"Ain't that a good story?" said Charlie as Amanda ended. "Tell us
another."
"Not now. Perhaps after a while," she promised. "Here's another patch
of berries. Shall we pick here?"
"Yes, fill the pails," said Martin, "then we'll be ready for the next
number on the program. It seems Amanda's the committee of one to
entertain us."
But the next number on the program was furnished by an unexpected
participant. The berrying party was busy picking when a crash was heard
as if some heavy body were running wild through the leaves and sticks
of the woods near by.
"Oh," cried Charlie, "I bet that's a bear! Manda, sing a Bear Charm
Song!"
"Oh," echoed Katie in alarm, and ran to the side of Amanda, while
Martin lifted his head and stood, alert, looking into the woods in the
direction of the noise. The crashing drew nearer, and then the figure
of a man came running wildly through the bushes, waving his hands
frantically in the air, then pressing them to his face.
"It's Lyman Mertzheimer!" Amanda exclaimed.
"With hornets after him," added Martin.
The children, reassured, ran to the newcomer.
It was Lyman Mertzheimer, his face distorted and swollen, his necktie
streaming from one shoulder, where he had torn it in a mad effort to
beat off the angry hornets whose nest he had disturbed out of sheer joy
in the destruction and an audacious idea that no insect could scare him
away or worst him in a fight. He had underestimated the fiery temper of
the hornets and their concentrated and persistent methods of defending
their home. After he had run wildly through the woods for fifteen
minutes and struck out repeatedly the insects left him, just as he
reached the berrying party. But the hornets had wreaked their anger
upon him; face, hands and neck bore evidence of the battle they had
waged.
"First time hornets got me!" he said crossly as he neared the little
party. "Oh, you needn't laugh!" he cried in angry tones as Charlie
snickered.
"But you look funny--all blotchy."
The stung man allowed his anger to burst out in oaths. "Guess you think
it's funny, too," he said to Amanda.
"No. I'm sure it hurts," she said, though she knew he deserved no pity
from her.
"We all know that it hurts," said Martin. But there was scant sympathy
in his voice.
"Smear mud on," suggested Mary. "Once I got stung by a bumblebee when
he went in a hollyhock and I held the flower shut so he couldn't get
out, and he stung me through the flower. Mom put mud on and it helped."
"Mud!" stormed Lyman, stepping about in the bush and twisting his head
in pain. "There isn't any mud in Lancaster County now. The whole place
is dry as punk!"