The mere puncture of the weapon, however, would be a quite unimportant matter, were it not that, connected with the groove in which the dart works, is a short tube leading from a bag containing a liquid of the most acrid and poisonous nature. By powerful muscles, attached to the upper part of the sting, the barbs are thrust out; the sheath follows them into the pierced substance, and then, by the pressure of other muscles, a drop of the poison-liquid runs down into the wound, and immediately sets up a violent pain and inflammation of the surrounding parts. So powerful is the action of the irritant, that numerous cases are on record of death ensuing through its influence. We are, however, bound to say that, by many authorities, such fatal consequences are considered to result from syncope produced by fright, rather than from the _direct_ effect of the poison on the nervous system. Still, there is no doubt of the very formidable nature of the liquid, as may be generally seen in the amount of swelling and discomfort caused by the exceedingly minute portion injected by the sting of a bee. [Illustration: Fig. 41.--Barbs of a Bee's Sting, very highly magnified.] The most remarkable function of the sting-apparatus has, in modern times, been discovered to be the insertion of a minute drop of the poison in each honey-cell when filled. This acts as an anti-septic, and prevents fermentation in the sweet liquid. The poison is secreted by tiny glands, from which it is conveyed, by tubes or ducts, into the reservoir, where it is stored ready for use. Chemically, the liquid is said to have an acid reaction. Hence the application of ammonia, and other alkaline solutions, will most effectually counteract its effects. The sting of the queen differs from that of the worker, in having its barbs curved, instead of straight. This modification makes it a much less formidable implement. Moreover, it is very seldom employed. It is, indeed, almost impossible to make a queen sting the hand, even by great provocation. Almost the only circumstances in which her majesty employs the weapon are, first, for mortal combat with a rival, and second, for murdering, if permitted by the workers, the princesses before they emerge from the cells in which they have developed. The drone is without a sting, and, indeed, seems never to show fight at all. Its jaws might furnish no despicable weapons, but the insect seems to lack spirit to use them, even in self-defence, and when attacked by the mandibles only of the workers, manifests no inclination to employ its own against its tormentors. Struggles to escape, and haste to flee, seem to betray its absence of courage; though, possibly, an instinctive knowledge that its assailants have in reserve a more deadly piece of armour than strong jaws may make "discretion the better part of valour."