e did know about
their habits, save that they lived in hives; and he stood and stared at
the cluster hanging outside.

"Why, they can't get in," he said to himself. "Hole's stopped up."

He stood still for a few minutes, and then, as he looked round, he
caught sight of some bean-sticks--tall thin pieces of oak sapling, and
drawing one of these out of the ground he rubbed the mould off the
pointed end, and, as soon as it was clean, took hold of it, and returned
to the hive, where he watched the clustering bees for a few minutes, and
then, reaching over, he inserted the thin end of the long stick just by
the opening to the hive, thrust it forward, and gave it a good rake to
right and left.

There was a tremendous buzz and a rush, and the next moment Dexter,
stick in hand, was running down the path toward the river, pursued by
quite a cloud of angry bees.

Dexter ran fast, of course, and as it happened, right down one of the
most shady paths, beneath the densely growing apple-trees, where the
bees could not fly, so that by the time he reached the river-side he was
clear of his pursuers, but tingling from a sting on the wrist, and from
two more on the neck, one being among the hair at the back, and the
other right down in his collar.

"Well, that's nice," he said, as he rubbed himself, and began mentally
to try and do a sum in the Rule of Three--if three stings make so much
pain, how much pain would be caused by the stings of a whole hiveful of
bees?

"Bother the nasty vicious little things!" he cried, as he had another
rub, and he threw the bean-stick angrily away.

"Don't hurt so much now," he said, after a few minutes' stamping about.
Then his face broke up into a merry smile. "How they did make me run!"

Just then there was a shout--a yell, and a loud call for help.

Dexter forgot his own pain, and, alarmed by the cries, ran as hard as he
could back again towards the spot from whence the sounds came, and to
his horror found that Old Dan'l was running here and there, waving his
arms, while Peter had come to his help, and was whisking his broom about
in all directions.

For a few moments Dexter could not comprehend what was wrong, then, like
a flash, he understood that the bees had attacked the old gardener, and
that it was due to his having irritated them with the stick.

Dexter knew how a wasp's nest had been taken in the fields by the boys
one day, and without a moment's hesitation he ran to the nearest