76 THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW 
level with the highest blossoms. Now he took a 
small bottle of honey from his pocket, emptied it 
into the tin receptacle, and beckoned me to come 
near. Already three or four bees had discovered 
this unawaited feast and settled on it; a minute 
more and the saucer was black with crowding bees. 
Now the bee-master took a wire-gauze cover and 
softly inverted it over the saucer. Then, plucking 
his ingenious trap up by the roots, he set off 
towards the forest with his prisoners, followed by 
his men. 
‘“ These,’’ said he, ‘‘ are our guides to the secret 
treasure-chamber. Without them we might look 
for a week and never find it. But now it is all 
plain sailing, as you’ll see.” 
He pulled up on the edge of the wood. By this 
time every bee in the trap had forsaken the honey, 
and was clambering about in the top of the dome- 
shaped lid, eager for flight. 
‘* They are all full of honey,’’ said the bee-master, 
‘‘and the first thing a fully-laden bee thinks of is 
home. And now we will set the first one on the 
wing.” 
He opened a small valve in the trap-cover, and 
allowed one of the bees to escape. She rose into 
the air, made a short circle, then sped away into the 
gloom of the wood. In a moment she was lost to 
sight, but the main direction of her course was clear; 
and we all followed helter-skelter until our leader 
called another halt. 
“ Now watch this one,’ he said, pressing the 
valve again. 
This time the guide rose high into the dim 
air, and was at once lost to my view. But 
