32. THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW 
where; and as the natural supply is very meagre, 
we just help them in this way.” 
As he spoke I became rather unpleasantly aware 
of a change of manners on the part of his winged 
people. First one and then another came harping 
round, and, settling comfortably on my face, 
showed no inclination to move again. In my 
ignorance I was for brushing them off, but the bee- 
master came hurriedly to my rescue. He dislodged 
them with a few gentle puffs from his tobacco-pipe. 
‘That is always their way in the spring-time,”’ 
he explained. ‘‘ The warmth of the skin attracts 
them, and the best thing to do is to take no notice. 
If you had knocked them off you would probably 
have been stung.” 
““Ts it true that a bee can only sting once?” 
I asked him, as he bent again over the crocus 
beds. 
He laughed. 
‘What would be the good of a sword to a 
soldier,’? he said, ‘‘if only one blow could be 
struck with it? It is certainly true that the bee 
does not usually sting a second time, but that is 
only because you are too hasty with her. You 
brush her off before she has had time to complete 
her business, and the barbed sting, holding in the 
wound, is torn away, and the bee dies. But now 
watch how the thing works naturally.” 
A bee had settled on his hand as he was speaking. 
He closed his fingers gently over it, and forced 
it to sting. 
“ Now,” he continued, quite unconcernedly, 
“look what really happens. The bee makes two 
or three lunges before she gets the sting fairly 
