166 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



time clucking and burring like an alarm clock 

 under a pillow. 



The rude thing had broken the spell of 

 quiet, and I got up, remembering the bees, 

 and wandered back to the sunny field, now 

 palpitating with waves of heat. Jonathan was 

 nowhere to be seen, but as I approached the 

 box I discovered him beside it flat on his back 

 among the weeds. 



&quot;Sh-h-h,&quot; he warned, &quot;don t frighten them. 

 There were a lot of them when I got here and 

 I ve been watching their line. They all go 

 straight for that chestnut.&quot; 



&quot;What are you lying down for?&quot; I asked. 



&quot;I had to. I nearly twisted my neck off 

 following their circles. I m no owl.&quot; 



I sat down near by and we watched a few 

 more go, while others began to arrive. 



&quot;That dab of honey did the work,&quot; said 

 Jonathan. &quot;We might as well begin to follow 

 up their line now.&quot; 



Waiting till there were a dozen or more in 

 the box, he gently slid on the glass cover, laid 

 a paper over it to darken it, and we set out. 

 Ten minutes walking brought us past the big 

 chestnut and out to a little clearing. Jonathan 



