THE HONEYFLOW 43 



zoom ! zer zoom ! zer ! zer ! zoom ! " like a minia- 

 ture thrashing-machine in full work. Looking in 

 at the entrance, we see a row of bees standing in 

 a line, facing inwards, their feet firmly planted, 

 heads down and tails erect, their wings vibrating 

 with incredible swiftness. These are the 

 " fanners," or ventilating bees, forcing air in to 

 cool the heated interior. Their numbers are 

 increased or diminished according to the tempera- 

 ture, until, sometimes, they almost block the 

 entrance, making it difficult for the now fast- 

 returning foragers to get inside. Bees emerging 

 in haste to rush to the fields cannon against them ; 

 returning bees alight sometimes on their very 

 backs, but still they keep steadily on with their 

 humble duty, until such time as declining day 

 renders their task no longer necessary. 



About midday, from old-established colonies, 

 there come forth the great hulking drones. 

 These show no eager, violent haste to rush away 

 to the fields. They emerge leisurely, survey the 

 prospect, and carefully smarten themselves up. 

 When their toilet is completed to their satisfaction, 

 they fly off with a deep booming sound, trying, 

 as it were, to impress all and sundry with their 

 magnificence. From first to last their life is one 

 of luxury and self-indulgence. They do not 

 forage for themselves, but batten most part of 

 the time on the ready prepared store's their sisters 

 have slaved to procure. They are dirty and 



