252 HUNTING THE HONEY-BEE 



dently short he follows it into the wood, and per- 

 haps has the luck of finding the tree in a few min- 

 utes. 



Our bee-hunter has no helpful bird, as the Afri- 

 can bee-hunter has, to lead him by voice and flight 

 to the hidden sweets, but must depend altogether 

 on his own sharp eyes and skill. He takes little 

 note of anything unconnected with his quest as he 

 pushes through the brushwood and briers, and 

 tramples the ferns under foot. The pack of half- 

 grown grouse that go whirring away from his very 

 feet may startle him with the suddenness of their 

 uprising, but further than this he notices them as 

 little as he does the jays that scold him or the 

 squirrels that jeer at him, but holds right onward, 

 his eye climbing every tree on the line that gives 

 sign of hollow-heartedness, searching every foot 

 of its length for the knot-hole, woodpecker's bor- 

 ing, or crevice which may be the gate of the bee's 

 castle. Finding this, he takes formal possession by 

 right of discovery, and hoists his flag on the walls, 

 or, to be more exact, carves his initials on the 

 bark. 



If the bees are long hi going and coming, he re- 

 moves the comb to the bottom of the box, and, 

 when some of the bees have settled on it, closes the 

 lid. Then he jars the box till the bees rise to the 

 top, when he shuts them off from the comb by 

 closing the slide. This is to prevent them from 



