Ba ttle — Victory — Death. 1 3 3 



through a window guarded by a man who, however 

 old he might be, was armed with a stout poller, was 

 quite another matter. 



On the whole, the cowardly ruffian thought it 

 best to sneak away as quietly as possible, without 

 letting his face be seen. 



But the old people went to sleep no more that 

 night, and were very glad next day to hand over to 

 nephew Jack the money that had so nearly cost them 

 their lives. 



And Buz, brave Buz ! the instrument by which 

 their lives had been saved, lay dead upon the ground 

 outside the window ; for on feeling her sting, the 

 man had given a sudden pressure of his thumb, 

 which had killed her instantly. 



Perhaps it was as well after all. 



She could not have withdrawn her barbed sting 

 from the horny hand of the man, as she had from 

 the soft body of the spider; and in losing their 

 stings, bees always receive a fatal injury. 



She was therefore spared the pain of a lingering 

 death. 



And even if she had returned to her hive without 

 any adventure, she would probably have died before 

 the sweet soft spring time came round again. The 

 life of a bee is very short, and one born as Buz 



