kept. Then we try another and another, and the
third bee, much to our satisfaction, goes straight toward the woods. We
could see the brown speck against the darker background for many yards.
The regular bee-hunter professes to be able to tell a wild bee from a
tame one by the color, the former, he says, being lighter. But there is
no difference; they are both alike in color and in manner. Young bees
are lighter than old, and that is all there is of it. If a bee
lived many years in the woods it would doubtless come to have some
distinguishing marks, but the life of a bee is only a few months at the
farthest, and no change is wrought in this brief time.

Our bees are all soon back, and more with them, for we have touched
the box here and there with the cork of a bottle of anise oil, and this
fragrant and pungent oil will attract bees half a mile or more. When no
flowers can be found, this is the quickest way to obtain a bee.

It is a singular fact that when the bee first finds the hunter's box
its first feeling is one of anger; it is as mad as a hornet; its tone
changes, it sounds its shrill war trumpet and darts to and fro, and
gives vent to its rage and indignation in no uncertain manner. It seems
to scent foul play at once. It says, "Here is robbery; here is the
spoil of some hive, may be my own," and its blood is up. But its ruling
passion soon comes to the surface, its avarice gets the better of its
indignation, and it seems to say, "Well, I had better take possession
of this and carry it home." So after many feints and approaches and
dartings off with a loud angry hum as if it would none of it, the bee
settles down and fills itself.

It does not entirely cool off and get soberly to work till it has made
two or three trips home with its booty. When other bees come, even if
all from the same swarm, they quarrel and dispute over the box, and clip
and dart at each other like bantam cocks. Apparently the ill feeling
which the sight of the honey awakens is not one of jealousy or rivalry,
but wrath.

A bee will usually make three or four trips from the hunter's box before
it brings back a companion. I suspect the bee does not tell its fellows
what it has found, but that they smell out the secret; it doubtless
bears some evidence with it upon its feet or proboscis that it has been
upon honey-comb and not upon flowers, and its companions take the hint
and follow, arriving always many seconds behind. Then the quantity and