CHAPTER IX 
THE BEE-HUNTERS 
“TN that bit of forest,’’ said the bee-master, indic- 
ating a long stretch of neighbouring woodland 
with one comprehensive sweep of his thumb, ‘‘ there 
are tons of honey waiting for any man who knows 
how to find it.” 
I had met and stopped the old bee-keeper and his 
men, bent on what seemed a rather singular under- 
taking. They carried none of the usual implements 
of their craft, but were laden up with the 
paraphernalia of woodmen—rip-saws and hatchets 
and climbing-irons, and a mysterious box or 
two, the use of which I could not even guess 
at. But the bee-master soon made his errand 
plain. 
“Tons of honey,’’ he went on. ‘‘ And we are 
going to look for some of it. There have been 
wild bees, I suppose, in the forest country from the 
beginning of things. Then see how the land lies. 
There are villages all round, and for ages past 
swarms have continually got away from the bee- 
gardens, and hived themselves in the hollow trunks 
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