AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE. 61 
Attracted in the fields by the bee-hunter’s box, they 
will come up the wind on the scent and blunder into 
it in the most stupid, lubberly fashion. 
The honey-bee that licked up our leavings on the 
old stub belonged to a swarm, as it proved, about half 
a mile farther down the ridge, and a few days after- 
ward fate overtook them, and their stores in turn be- 
came the prey of another swarm in the vicinity, which 
also tempted Providence and were overwhelmed. The 
first mentioned swarm I had lined from several points, 
and was following up the clew over rocks and through 
gulleys, when I came to where a large hemlock had 
been felled a few years before and a swarm taken 
from a cavity near the top of it; fragments of the old 
comb were yet to be seen. A few yards away stood 
another short, squatty hemlock, and I said my bees 
ought to be there. As I paused near it I noticed 
where the tree had been wounded with an ax a couple 
of feet from the ground many years before. The 
wound had partially grown over, but there was an 
opening there that I did not see at the first glance. I 
was about to pass on when a bee passed me making 
that peculiar shrill, discordant hum that a bee makes 
when besmeared with honey. I saw it alight in the 
partially closed wound and crawl home; then came 
others and others, little bands and squads of them 
heavily freighted with honey from the box. The tree 
was about twenty inches through and hollow at the 
butt, or from the ax mark down. This space the 
bees had completely filled with honey. With an ax 
we cut away the outer ring of live wood and exposed 
the treasure. Despite the utmost care, we wounded 
the comb so that little rills of the golden liquid issued 
from the root of the tree and trickled down the hill. 
