The Bee-Master of Warrilow. 



Another and another of the guides was set free, each 

 one taking- us deeper into the heart of the forest, until at 

 last the bee-master suddenly stopped and held up his hand. 



" Listen ! " he said under his breath. 



Above the rustling of the leaves, above the quiet stir 

 of the undergrowth and the crooning of the stock-doves, 

 a shrill insistent note came over to us on the gentle wind. 

 The bee-man led the way silently into the darkest depths of 

 the wood. Halting, listening, going swiftly forward in 

 turn, at last he stopped at the foot of an old decayed elm- 

 stump. The shrill note we had heard was much louder 

 now, and right overhead. Following his pointing fore- 

 finger, I saw a dark cleft in the old trunk about twenty feet 

 above ; and round this a cloud of bees was circling, filling 

 the air with their rich deep labour-song. At the same in- 

 stant, with a note like the twang of a harp-string, a bee 

 came at me and fastened a red-hot fish-hook into my cheek. 

 The old bee-keeper laughed. 



** Get this on as soon as you can," he said, producing 

 a pocketful of bee-veils, and handing me one from the 

 bunch. ''These are wild bees, thirty thousand of them, 

 maybe ; and we shall need all our armour to-day. Only 

 wait till they find us out ! But now rub your hands all 

 over with this." 



E.very man scrambled into his veil, and anointed his 

 hands with the oil of wintergreen — the one abiding terror 

 of vindictive bees. And then the real business of the day 

 commenced. 



The bee-master had strapped on his climbing-irons. 

 Now he struck his way slowly up the tree, tapping the 

 wood with the butt-end of a hatchet inch by inch as he 

 went. At last he found what he wanted. The trunk rang 

 hollow about a dozen feet from the ground. Immediately 

 he began to cut it away. The noise of the hatchet woke all 

 the echoes of the forest. The chips came fluttering to the 

 earth. The rich murmur overhead changed to an angry 

 buzzing. In a moment the bees were on the worker in a 

 vortex of humming fury, covering his veil, his clothes, his 

 hands. But he worked on unconcernedly until he had 

 driven a large hole through the crust of the tree and laid 

 bare the glistening honeycomb within. Now I saw him 

 take from a sling-bag at his side handful after handful of 

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