"Which way would you wish to direct your course, today, general?" the guide asked. "Conduct me to the huts of those trappers you spoke of yesterday." The guide bowed in sign of obedience. The little party advanced slowly and with some difficulty along a scarcely traced path, where, at every step, the horses became entangled in the creeping plants, or stumbled over the roots of trees above the level of the ground. Doña Luz was gay and happy. Perhaps in these excursions she might meet with Loyal Heart. The Babbler, who was a few paces in advance, suddenly uttered a cry. "Eh!" said the general, "what extraordinary thing has happened, Master Babbler, to induce you to speak?" "The bees, señor." "What! bees! are there bees here?" "Yes; but lately only." "How only lately?" "Why, you know, of course, that bees were brought into America by the whites." "That, I know. How is it, then, they are met with here?" "Nothing more simple; the bees are the advanced sentinels of the whites. In proportion as the whites penetrate into the interior of America, the bees go forward to trace the route for them, and point out the clearings. Their appearance in an uninhabited country always presages the arrival of a colony of pioneers or squatters." "That is something strange," the general murmured; "are you sure of what you are telling me?" "Oh! quite sure, señor; the fact is well known to all Indians, they are not mistaken in it, be assured; for as soon as they see the bees arrive, they retreat." "That is truly singular." "The honey must be very good," said Doña Luz. "Excellent, señorita, and if you wish for it, nothing is more easy than to get it." "Get some, then," said the general. The guide, who some moments before had placed a bait for the bees upon the bushes, to which, with his piercing sight, he had already seen several bees attracted, made a sign to those behind him to stop. The bees had, in fact, lighted upon the bait, and were examining it all over; when they had made their provision, they rose very high into the air, and then took flight in a direct line with the velocity of a cannon ball. The guide carefully watched the direction they took, and making a sign to the general, he sprang after them, followed by the whole party, clearing themselves a way through interlaced roots, fallen trees, bushes and briars, their eyes directed all the while towards the sky. In this fashion they never lost sight of the laden bees, and after a difficult pursuit of an hour, they saw them arrive at their nest, constructed in the hollow of a dead ebony tree; after buzzing for a moment, they entered a hole situated at more than eighty feet from the ground. Then the guide, after having warned his companions to keep at a respectful distance, in order to be out of the way of the falling tree and the vengeance of its inhabitants, seized his axe and attacked the ebony vigorously near the base.