“And when we run we’ll turn to the left,” Warde piped up.
“That’s understood,” Hervey said.
“I think it would be better to toss it gently,” Brent said. “I’ll lift it down and throw it to Miss Eaton, she’ll throw it to Warde, he’ll throw it to Miss Wingate, she’ll throw it to Pee-wee——”
“Not gently,” I said.
“By that time,” Brent said, “the wasps will be dizzy; they’ll be so seasick that they’ll tumble right out through the hole, and we can hold a plate of jam to catch them in. They’ll stick in the jam while they’re in a state of como, or coma, or whatever you call it, and we’ll capture them all by one master-stroke.”
Warde said, “You got that idea from the best way to kill flies by hanging a slippery cord above a plate of ice cream. The fly alights on the cord, slides off into the ice cream and freezes to death.” Brent said, “I’ve heard of that but it’s cruel and scouts don’t use it. In the seasick method the wasp is rendered unconscious first and he never knows he’s dead till afterwards. He dies in the jam, an ideal death. Even Pee-wee will admit that.”
Warde said, “I should think the wasps would be stuck on that—or in it.”
“That’s just it, they are,” Brent said. “Now, all form a circle while I lift it down.” He made believe to reach for it and, oh, boy, I wish you could have seen those girls run. When they got about fifty feet away they stood hugging each other and screaming.
“By doing that you’ll only wake the wasps up,” Warde said to them. “This is just the time they take their afternoon nap.”