Yet what idle talk is this? It seems but foolish to tell thus of the flowers and bees and of our more peaceful doings, though, mayhap, it will make more clear the colouring of the lives of us--the mighty forest people. Was I like the weak Buoba, of the village, who was not enduring in the chase and who had never been in battle, but who sometimes made soft verses and who told strange tales and was, somehow, not a little beloved? What of it? There was the sound in my ears, and the ears were surely my own as was my fancy. And not alone were my ears and eyes made glad, for there rose from that great field of bloom such volume and drift of perfume as filled my nostrils to their utmost depths and which, wafted through the forest by the wind, might well call from a far distance the hosts of labouring bees. The fragrance, I fancied for a moment, had its effect even on the great stag which came from out the wood across from me and raised his head aloft and sniffed the air, though it is more likely he was but assuring himself against all danger ere he began his feeding. He did not dally at that, and was setting me a good example, for certainly I had not come here to regale my senses, so I strode into the sunny clearing as he, with a great snort of alarm, bounded upward and then into the wood again. In this field must begin my quest for the places of lofty beehives to be plundered, and thus I set about it: I had brought my weapons with me, for he is foolish who would go unarmed into the forest, but other things I carried as well, since there was much craft to be displayed in this hunting for the bee stores. I had beeswax with me and a portion of honey in the comb, and also a staff sharpened at one end, having at the other a fastened box without a cover. The staff I thrust into the ground and the honeycomb I placed in the box above. Then I found a flattish stone near by and brought it to near the staff, and upon it, using my flint and the back of my hunting-knife, kindled a tiny fire upon which I laid the wax. Very soon the wax melted and there arose from it a little smoke and an odour which was wafted to the myriads of incoming bees and at once attracted them. Swerving from their course, they circled a little and then settled down upon the awaiting honey, a prize of note for them, since it would require no alchemy of theirs in fitting it for storage. Then I had naught to do but to watch. One by one, each rioting bee there gorged to the full and then, rising upon heavy wing, flew toward the forest whence it had come, straight as the downward dropping of a stone. Some flew in one direction and others on a different course, but I followed with my eye the flight only of the company which seemed most numerous. Straight toward the west they went, toward where I knew was a swamp, beyond which was a forest of great oaks. Their home I knew could not be in the swamp; hence somewhere in the oaks, most like of all places.