AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE 67 



the pungent oil. In a few moments a bee has 

 found it; she comes up to leeward, following the 

 scent. On leaving the box, she goes straight toward 

 the woods. More bees quickly come, and it is not 

 long before the line is well established. Now we 

 have recourse to the same tactics we employed 

 before, and move along the ridge to another field to 

 get our cross line. But the bees still go in almost 

 the same direction they did from the corn stout. 

 The tree is then either on the top of the mountain 

 or on the other or west side of it. We hesitate to 

 make the plunge into the woods and seek to scale 

 those precipices, for the eye can plainly see what is 

 before us. As the afternoon sun gets lower, the 

 bees are seen with wonderful distinctness. They 

 fly toward and under the sun, and are in a strong 

 light, while the near woods which form the back- 

 ground are in deep shadow. They look like large 

 luminous motes. Their swiftly vibrating, transpar- 

 ent wings surround their bodies with a shining 

 nimbus that makes them visible for a long distance. 

 They seem magnified many times. We see them 

 bridge the little gulf between us and the woods, 

 then rise up over the treetops with their burdens, 

 swerving neither to the right hand nor to the left. 

 It is almost pathetic to see them labor so, climbing 

 the mountain and unwittingly guiding us to their 

 treasures. When the sun gets down so that his 

 direction corresponds exactly with the course of the 

 bees, we make the plunge. It proves even harder 

 climbing than we had anticipated; the mountain is 



