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 quality of the booty would also betray
it. No doubt, also, there are plenty of gossips about a hive that
note and tell everything. "Oh, did you see that? Peggy Mel came in
a few moments ago in great haste, and one of the up-stairs packers says
she was loaded till she groaned with apple-blossom honey which she
deposited, and then rushed off again like mad. Apple-blossom honey
in October! Fee, fi, fo, fum! I smell something! Let's after."

In about half an hour we have three well-defined lines of bees
established --two to farm-houses and one to the woods, and our box is
being rapidly depleted of its honey. About every fourth bee goes to
the woods, and now that they have learned the way thoroughly they do
not make the long preliminary whirl above the box, but start directly
from it. The woods are rough and dense and the hill steep, and we do
not like to follow the line of bees until we have tried at least to