A HERMIT'S WILD FRIENDS 



<Dee Hunting 



less. My friend had on a close veil and two 

 pairs of gloves, and all I could say had no 

 effect. He swore the bees would sting him 

 to death if he should remove his veil. He could 

 not eat honey, and he was a great honey fiend. 

 I would eat the best I could find before him, 

 and chaff him all the time. At last he could 

 stand it no longer. He took a sheet of well- 

 filled comb and started up the hill. It was 

 his idea to get away from the bees, where he 

 could remove his gloves and veil and enjoy a 

 feast. 



Inside of five minutes I was startled by a 

 succession of yells that appeared to extend in 

 a line from the top of the hill to the swamp. 

 Shortly a doleful voice called to me from the 

 swamp. I went down and found my friend up 

 to his hips in water. He wanted me to go up 

 the hill and find his gloves and veil. I tried 

 to have him come out, but he claimed that the 

 bees had stung him until he was nearly blind. 

 He told such a pitiable story that I believed 

 him and hunted up his lost property. When 

 he came to the edge of the swamp, I could 

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