Carl’s hopes rose as he looked at it. For some minutes it hardly seemed to stir, though he could not doubt its intense vigilance. Perhaps it was remaining quiet in the hope that he would be tempted to come down.
“Are you all right, Carl? Where is it?” called Alice, in a low tone.
“Lying like a dog at the foot of my tree,” Carl responded. “Are you all right?”
“Fairly comfortable. I’ve got a lot of bees on me, though,” she added.
Carl presently became aware that he had bees on him also. The ground must have been covered with them where the bear had torn the hive open; some had probably flown from the combs and settled on the two apiarists. Carl felt one crawling on his neck; he brushed it off, and a moment later was stung by another that had crept up the inside of his trouser-leg. He seemed to have bees crawling all over him, and no doubt Alice, whose skirts afforded less protection, was in even worse case.
In fact, he could hear her squirming about on her branch, and brushing at her clothing.
“They’re stinging me all over,” she called piteously at last. “There must be more than a million bees on me. I believe I’ll get down and run.”
“Don’t do it!” Carl implored. “Try to stand it for a little while. Maybe the bear’ll go away.”
But in his heart he knew that the bear was not at all likely to go away before daylight, and that was a long time to wait. The annoyance of the bees was growing intolerable. In the semi-darkness they would not take wing; they merely crawled, and when they became entangled, they used their stings. Carl could hear the continual “biz-zz” of insects somewhere out of reach under his clothing, and every few minutes he felt the keen thrust.
“I simply can’t stand this,” groaned Alice, and Carl felt that he had had enough of it too.