164 . Ways of Wood Folk. 



poured. The sugar melted gradually in the sun, and 

 a strong odor of alcohol rose from the sticky stuff. 

 That and the sunshine must have roused my hornet 

 guest, for when I came back to the room, there he lay 

 by the tumbler, dead drunk. 



He was stretched out on his side, one wing doubled 

 under him, a forward leg curled over his head, a 

 sleepy, boozy, j^erfectly ludicrous expression on his 

 pointed face. I poked him a bit with my finger, to 

 see how the alcohol affected his temper. He rose 

 unsteadily, staggered about, and knocked his head 

 against the tumbler; at which fancied insult he raised 

 his wings in a limp kind of dignity and defiance, buzz- 

 ing a challenge. But he lost his legs, and fell down; 

 and presently, in spite of pokings, went off into a 

 drunken sleep again. 



All the afternoon he lay there. As it grew cooler 

 he stirred about uneasily. At dusk he started up for 

 his nest. It was a hard pull to get there. His head 

 was heavy, and his legs shaky. Half way up, he 

 stopped on top of the lower sash to lie down awhile. 

 He had a terrible headache, evidently; he kept rub- 

 bing his head with his fore legs as if to relieve the 

 pain. After a fall or two on the second sash, he 

 reached the top, and tumbled into his warm nest to 

 sleep off the effects of his spree. 



One such lesson should have been enough ; but it 



