THE BEE-HUNTERS 77 
ins keen eyes of the old bee-man had challenged 
ler, 
“There she goes! ”? he said, pointing down a 
long shadowy glade somewhat to his left.“ Watch 
that bit of sunlight away yonder! ” 
I followed this indication. Through the dense 
wood-canopy a hundred feet away the sun had thrust 
one long golden tentacle; and I saw a tiny spark of 
light flash through into the gloom beyond. We all 
stampeded after it. 
Another and another of the guides was set free, 
each one taking us deeper into the heart of the 
forest, until at last the bee-master suddenly stopped 
and held up his hand. 
“ Listen! ’’ he said under his breath. 
Above the rustling of the leaves, above the quiet 
stir of the undergrowth and the crooning of the 
stock-doves, a shrill insistent note came over to us 
on the gentle wind. The bee-man led the way 
silently into the darkest depths of the wood. Halt- 
ing, listening, going swiftly forward in turn, at last 
he stopped at the foot of an old decayed elm-stump. 
The shrill note we had heard was much louder now, 
and right overhead. Following his pointing fore- 
finger, I saw a dark cleft in the old trunk about 
twenty feet above; and round this a cloud of bees 
was circling, filling the air with their rich deep 
labour-song. At the same instant, with a note like 
the twang of a harp-string, a bee came at me and 
fastened a red-hot fish-hook into my cheek. The 
old bee-keeper laughed. 
‘* Get this on as soon as you can,” he said, pro- 
ducing a pocketful of bee-veils, and handing me 
one from the bunch. ‘‘ These are wild bees, thirty 
