the
drink for a week! I must get him there somehow. Here, Hilt, old man,
its saddling up and weighing time. Come on. La Sylphide looks lovely,
and Lady T. all anxiety about you. Rouse up, old chap."

"All right. Wait till I've killed a few of these little beasts."

To the horror and astonishment of his friend, Sir Hilton made another
dash and rush, darting here and there all over the hall, cutting and
swishing about with his heavy riding-whip as if it were a sabre, and he
a mounted cavalry man, putting the well-learnt pursuing practice well
into effect upon the enemy he seemed to see.

"What the deuce shall I do?" muttered the doctor, breathlessly, after
playing the enemy in his efforts to escape a slash.

"That cham, Jack," cried Sir Hilton, catching his friend by the arm.
"Sham, and no mistake. Not fizz at all, but that old brewing of honey--
mead--metheglin--old Saxon swizzle. There they go again--the bees--
swarming--all round and round my head. Yah! Look out--you'll be
stung."

"Oh, I'm all right," said Granton, humouring him. "Be cool. Stand
still a moment, and let them go."

"Thousands upon thousands of them," cried Sir Hilton. "B-r-r-r-r-r!
Look how they dart about in diamonds, zig-zags, rhomboids--buzz-z!"

"Yes. How queer!" said Granton, taking the speaker's arm again. "Let's
walk quietly out into the air. They won't follow us out."

"I don't know," cried the unfortunate man, shaking himself free and
holding his hand and whip as if to guard his head. "Buzz! B-r-r-r!
How they are going it! Jack, old man, someone ought to get a hive. Rub
it with beer and sugar. Take the swarm, you know. Swarm of bees, you
know."

"Swarm of bees in May."

"Is worth a load of hay."

"Yes, old man; but we haven't time now. Come along. La Sylphide's
waiting. Oh, if I could only get him mounted! He'd ride like the very
deuce, thinking that the bees were after him."

"Let me be, you fool!" cried Sir Hilton, angrily. "Take care of
yourself, you coward. You'll be getting us both stung. Oh, I see; on
the look-out for a job. Cure the patient's stings. Ammonia, eh? I
know. Country gentleman picks up a bit. Here, horrible!" he cried,
with a frantic leap aside. "They're settling on me. Swarms--millions--
hanging in pockets like they do outside a hive. Buzz-uzz-zz! Here,
Jack, old man, I daren't move. Come and sweep 'em off. Steady--softly.
Quiet does it. There she is--the queen. Take h