. American bee journal. Bee culture; Bees. June 6, 1901. AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL 367 a hundred yards farther on ; sd 1 returned for Aliram. and together we made our way there. The cliff was sheer, and even uverhangins. A dense mass of bees and comb lay about 50 feet below me. and 50 feet below that were the boat and my faithful ally. I put one end of the rope round a tree grow- intr at the edjre of the cliff, gave the other end to Abrani, and went over. I found I should have to get a swing to reach the ledge on which I meant to stand. Hanging down on this ledge from above was 10 or 15 feet of com


. American bee journal. Bee culture; Bees. June 6, 1901. AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL 367 a hundred yards farther on ; sd 1 returned for Aliram. and together we made our way there. The cliff was sheer, and even uverhangins. A dense mass of bees and comb lay about 50 feet below me. and 50 feet below that were the boat and my faithful ally. I put one end of the rope round a tree grow- intr at the edjre of the cliff, gave the other end to Abrani, and went over. I found I should have to get a swing to reach the ledge on which I meant to stand. Hanging down on this ledge from above was 10 or 15 feet of comb. I reached the rock with my hand, gave a push, swung out. then in again, struck iu the middle of the comb, and gained my feet with a scramble. The bees were upon me. The air reeked with that curious acrid smell familiar to those who have been stung. The noise of the water lielow was drowned by the hiss of the angry bees. I was completely blinded, for they had swarmed over my veil, blocking out the light. When I touched my body it seemed to lue, through my glove, that I was covered by thick, soft fur, all bees. For a few moments I was stupefied, fright- ened. Then I realized that my armor was trustworthy, and that I was safe. Aliram lowered the bucket, and lilindly I felt about for the comb, and as well as I could, scraped it into the bucket. I lowered it to Percy, and shouted to Abram to lower me. He told me afterward that he could not see me. In the place where he knew I must be was nothing but a brown, whirling mass. I swung out into the dark, bumping as I went. At last a man clutched me, and I knew I was at the bottom. I brushed the bees from my veil, and through a ilriving mist of them saw a cluster of other bees in the shape of a man. This was Percy. We cut ourselves ach*ift, and rowed to a convenient place, where we made for the shore. There, five mile away, we made a sulphur smoke, and were freed from the last of our enemies. Our dresses had held, none of us were stung


Size: 1382px × 1808px
Photo credit: © Library Book Collection / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, booksubjectbees, bookyear1861