THE HONEY THIEVES 129 
hive scrambled into its friendly shelter, a bedraggled, 
sodden crew. When at length all was quiet, the 
old bee-man fetched an armful of hay and heaped it 
up before the hive, completely covering its entire 
front. 
“‘ Tf the robbers come back,” said he, ‘‘ that will 
stop them going in, while the bees inside can crawl 
to and fro if they wish. But at sunset we must do 
away with the stock altogether by uniting it to 
another colony, and so put temptation out of the 
robbers’ way. And now we must go and look for 
the robbers’ den.”’ 
He refilled his pipe, and led the way down the 
long thoroughfare of the bee-city, examining every 
hive in turn as he passed. 
‘It is trouble of this kind,’ he said, ‘‘ that does 
more than anything else to upset the instinct-theory 
of the old-fashioned naturalists, at least as far as 
the honey-bee is concerned. Why should a whole 
houseful of them suddenly break away from their 
old orderly industrious habits, and take to thieving 
and violence? But so it often happens. There is 
character, or the want of it, among bees just as 
there is in the human race. Some are gentle and 
others vicious; some are hard workers early and 
late, and others seem to take things easily, or to 
be subject to unaccountable moods and caprices. 
Then the weather has an extraordinary influence on 
the temper of most hives. On sunny, calm days, 
when the glass is ‘ set fair,’ and the clover in full 
bloom, the bees will take no notice of any inter- 
ference. The hives can be opened and manipulated 
without the slightest fear of a sting. But if the 
glass is falling, or the wind rising and backing, the 
s § 
