JOY RIDING WITH BEES 
87 
I let her out and as I looked back I saw her run¬ 
ning along the road, ducking her head and fling¬ 
ing her arms like flails from side to side. 
Without looking at the hive I knew what had 
happened . . . that little block of wood should 
have been fastened securely in place. ... It had 
shaken out, and now through the narrow opening 
the bees were streaming, increasingly angry with 
the joggling of their belongings and themselves. 
They stung both me and the horse, a high-strung 
animal which, though much agitated, behaved like 
a perfect lady and did not become unmanageable. 
I had to gallop her to prevent our both being over¬ 
powered by the bees as they surged from the hive. 
In that way some were bound to lose track of us. 
But plenty found us and hurled their little javelins 
viciously into the back of my unprotected neck. 
The day was warm, and unfortunately I had worn 
no hat or coat and had not even so much as a 
pocket handkerchief with me. I wished I could 
throw the hive out somehow, but that was im¬ 
possible. To slacken speed was dangerous. . . . 
So on we galloped. I thought of stories of horses 
stung to death by bees . . . and my imagina¬ 
tion did not stop with that picture only. 
Somehow we must get home and unharness and 
