"Yes, a hive," repeated the Canadian, "and bees humming round it."
I approached, and was bound to believe my own eyes. There at a hole bored
in one of the dragon-trees were some thousands of these ingenious insects,
so common in all the Canaries, and whose produce is so much esteemed.
Naturally enough, the Canadian wished to gather the honey, and I could
not well oppose his wish. A quantity of dry leaves, mixed with sulphur,
he lit with a spark from his flint, and he began to smoke out the bees.
The humming ceased by degrees, and the hive eventually yielded several pounds
of the sweetest honey, with which Ned Land filled his haversack.
"When I have mixed this honey with the paste of the bread-fruit,"
said he, "I shall be able to offer you a succulent cake."
[Transcriber's Note: 'bread-fruit' has been substituted for
'artocarpus' in this ed.]
"'Pon my word," said Conseil, "it will be gingerbread."
"Never mind the gingerbread," said I; "let us continue our interesting
walk."
At every turn of the path we were following, the lake appeared
in all its length and breadth.
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