breeze springs up, blowing from the south, the very
direction which my Bees must take to return to the nest. Can they
overcome this opposing current and cleave the aerial torrent with their
wings? If they try, they will have to fly close to the ground, as I
now see the Bees do who continue their foraging; but soaring to lofty
regions, whence they can obtain a clear view of the country, is, so
it seems to me, prohibited. I am therefore very apprehensive as to the
success of my experiment when I return to Orange, after first trying to
steal some fresh secret from the Aygues Mason-bee of the Pebbles.

I have scarcely reached the house before Aglae greets me, her cheeks
flushed with excitement:

'Two!' she cries. 'Two came back at twenty minutes to three, with a load
of pollen under their bellies!'

A friend of mine had appeared upon the scene, a grave man of the law,
who on hearing what was happening, had neglected code and stamped
paper and insisted upon also being present at the arrival of my
Carrier-pigeons. The result interested him more than his case about a
party-wall. Under a tropical sun, in a furnace heat reflected from the
wall of the shed, every five minutes he climbed the ladder bare-headed,
with no other protection against sunstroke than his thatch of thick,
grey locks. Instead of the one observer whom I had posted, I found two
good pairs of eyes watching the Bees' return.

I had released my insects at about two o'clock; and the first arrivals
returned to the nest at twenty minutes to three. They had therefore
taken less than three-quarters of an hour to cover the two miles and a
half, a very striking result, especially when we remember that the Bees
did some foraging on the road, as was proved by the yellow pollen on
their bellies, and that, on the other hand, the travellers' flight must
have been hindered by the wind blowing against them. Three more came
home before my eyes, each with her load of pollen, an outward and
visible sign of the work done on the journey. As it was growing late,
our observations had to cease. When the sun goes down, the Mason-bees
leave the nest and take refuge somewhere or other, perhaps under the
tiles of the roofs, or in little corners of the walls. I could not
reckon on the arrival of the others before work was resumed, in the full
sunshine.

Next day, when the sun recalled the scattered workers to the nest, I
took a fresh census of Bees with a white spot on the thorax. My