into a prison exactly like the one that held the
Carpenter.

"He didn't sting me!" cried Buster's captor proudly, while Johnnie Green
stared at him in astonishment and--it must be confessed--with some
disappointment, too.

Now, Johnnie knew a good many things about the field and forest folk in
Pleasant Valley. He knew that the Carpenter (or Whiteface, as Johnnie
called him) couldn't sting anybody. But he had always supposed that all
bumblebees stung fiercely. And that was where he was mistaken. It was
true that Buster's mother, the Queen, could sting when she wanted to. And
all those hot-tempered workers who lived with her had stings just as hot
as their tempers. But Buster and his brothers (for he had brothers) were
not armed with such weapons.

Naturally, the other twin was now more eager than ever to capture a
bumblebee of his own. And since Johnnie did not want to disappoint a
guest he soon suggested that they go over to the clover patch.

"There's a lot of bumblebees over there, always," said Johnnie Green
hopefully.

So Buster had a free ride to the clover field; for his twin insisted on
taking his new pet right along with him.

"Besides, I may want to catch some more like him," he explained.

Looking out through the glass sides of his prison, which his captor held
tightly in one hand, Buster Bumblebee saw many of his mother's workers
hovering about the clover-tops, gathering nectar for the honeycomb at
home.

The twins saw the workers, too. They were delighted. And so was Johnnie
Green.

"Take all the bumblebees you want!" said Johnnie. "My father won't care."

Both twins grabbed at the same time. They both shrieked at the same time,
too--for each of them felt a sharp pain, as if a red-hot needle had been
run into his finger. And Buster Bumblebee felt himself falling. Then
followed a crash of splintering glass. And in another moment Buster was
hurrying away across the clover field.

When he was stung by the worker he had seized, Buster's twin had dropped
the honey box. And it had fallen squarely upon a rock and broken.

If Buster had not been in such haste to escape he would have heard still
another shout. For the news spread like wildfire among the workers--the
news that an army of boys had attacked them. And a terrible-tempered
relation of Buster's known as Peppery Polly darted at Johnnie Green and
buried her sting deep in the back of that young gentleman's sun-browned
neck.

As for the Carpent