Then the boys went back to the orchard. The bees had begun to come out of the hive. They fluttered around, shook their wings, rolled into the grass and seemed working to get the foreign substance from their bodies. Some of them returned to the hive, some followed the denizens of other hives to the clover field. Then one by one, until they comprised quite a floating cloud, a great many of them headed down the road.
“There’s our start,” announced Vic, triumphantly. “All we’ve got to do is to follow them; eh, Pep?”
“Oh, of course we must do that,” was the answer. “As to keeping them in sight, though, that is another question.”
After that they tramped several miles, coming across single bees resting in flowers as if they had given up the task of going any further. Then, too, some bees headed back in the direction of the farm. The trailers were so tired out and hungry by about eleven o’clock that they sat down in a little thicket, and decided to rest for an hour and eat the generous lunch the farmer’s wife had provided for them.
Both dozed for a spell. Pep nudged his snoozing companion at length and started to wrap up the remnants of their feast. As he stooped over to do this, he drew back suddenly with the sharp sudden hail:
“Come here, Vic—quick!”
“What is it?” inquired his comrade, rising to his feet and approaching.
“Look there. See, where the sugar off those cookies has littered the paper.”
“Why, there’s half a dozen bees—our floured ones, too.”
“That’s right,” said Pep. “Now then, try and keep them in sight,” and he gave the newspaper a smart flip, scattering the sugar into the grass. Instantly the intruders arose, circled about in the air and then made a true bee-line away from the spot.