s to avoid
collisions during the rotation; lastly, the box shall be tied to a
cord and I will whirl the whole thing round like a sling. With this
contrivance, it will be quite easy to obtain any rate of speed that I
wish, any variety of inverse movements that I consider likely to make
my captives lose their bearings. I can whirl my sling first in one
direction and then in another, turn and turn about; I can slacken or
increase the pace; if I like, I can make it describe figures of eight,
combined with circles; if I spin on my heels at the same time, I am able
to make the process still more complicated by compelling my sling to
trace every known curve. That is what I shall do.

On the 2nd of May 1880, I make a white mark on the thorax of ten
Mason-bees busied with various tasks: some are exploring the slabs of
clay in order to select a site; others are brick-laying; others are
garnering stores. When the mark is dry, I catch them and pack them as I
have described. I first carry them a quarter of a mile in the opposite
direction to the one which I intend to take. A path skirting my house
favours this preliminary manoeuvre; I have every hope of being alone
when the time comes to make play with my sling. There is a way-side
cross at the end; I stop at the foot of the cross. Here I swing my Bees
in every direction. Now, while I am making the box describe inverse
circles and loops, while I am pirouetting on my heels to achieve the
various curves, up comes a woman from the village and stares at me.
Oh, how she stares at me, what a look she gives me! At the foot of the
cross! Acting in such a silly way! People talked about it. It was sheer
witchcraft. Had I not dug up a dead body, only a few days before? Yes,
I had been to a prehistoric burial-place, I had taken from it a pair of
venerable, well-developed tibias, a set of funerary vessels and a few
shoulders of horse, placed there as a viaticum for the great journey. I
had done this thing; and people knew it. And now, to crown all, the
man of evil reputation is found at the foot of a cross indulging in
unhallowed antics.

No matter--and it shows no small courage on my part--the gyrations are
duly accomplished in the presence of this unexpected witness. Then
I retrace my steps and walk westward of Serignan. I take the
least-frequented paths, I cut across country so as, if possible, to
avoid a second meeting. It would be the last straw if I were seen
opening my paper bags and le