"Oh, of course!" shouted the children. "Why didn't we think of that?

But you said we had never seen it."

"So I did," said the guide, "and I don't believe there is one child here who has ever carefully watched the potato-bug. And there's the carpet-beetle, whose babies eat carpets unless your mother tempts them with pieces of red flannel. And there's the searcher-beetle, with its pretty green or violet wing covers, who is always on the search for caterpillars. And there's the fire-fly, which is a soft-bodied beetle.

"And there's the very useful little beetle we call the ladybug, which is not a bug, but a beetle. The ladybug is a great help to men who own fruit orchards in the West. All over the country are to be found little bugs called scale insects. These scales are very bad for trees, because with their long, slender beaks the scales pump out the sap. Sometimes they are so thick on the branch that they coat it entirely. You remember that I told you that one of these troublesome scales is the cottony-cushion scale, and that one day it was discovered that a lady-beetle from Australia liked these scales very much. So a great many of them were taken to California to eat the scales. The ladybugs eat little green aphids, too, and often Mrs. Ladybug will lay her eggs right in the midst of a family of aphids; and then the larvae are surrounded by a hearty lunch when they come out of the egg. They eat the aphids, the scales, and sometimes the eggs of other insects."

"Time, Ben," said Adam, "to have the flapjacks. I guess the storm must be blowing over."

All drew up to the cabin table, and ate as heartily as if they were eating dinner. It really looked as if the children had had no supper.

"In about half an hour," said Tom, "the storm will be over. Aren't there any beetles that live in the water, Ben?"

"Oh yes; you can see them any day if you go by a brook. The diving-beetles are skimming about, rowing themselves along with their flattened hind legs. Every few minutes they come to the surface and lift their wings to get a little air under them, then down they go into the brook. They are very hungry beetles, eating other insects which they find in the water. The boldest often try to take a bite out of a fish.

Just think of calling a baby beetle a water-tiger! Well, these babies are as savage and ferocious to the little creatures living about them in the water as a big tiger would be to us, if we should happen to meet one.

"I like best the whirligig-beetles, they are such frisky fellows, always having a good time, frolicking about with dozens of other little whirligigs. They are bluish-black and shiny, and if you look carefully you will see a little bubble at the tip of every tail. This little bubble is held there by tiny hairs, and because whirligig has it, it can breathe while it stays under the water. From time to time it comes to the surface to get a new bubble, then is off again for another race or game of tag with its friends, and at the same time to snap up a few water creatures for dinner. It looks as though it had four eyes, but it has not, just two, divided into upper and lower halves. The upper halves look up through the water and the lower ones down at the bottom of the brooks. So, you see, insects must step lively if they want to keep out of its clutches.

"The babies of some beetles, instead of liking nice, clean food, prefer dead animals. The mother and father hunt around until they find a dead mouse or bird; then they begin to dig away the earth under the mouse or bird and around it. Finally the poor dead thing is in a deep hole; then Mrs. Burying-beetle lays her eggs on it, and together they cover it up with earth. When the grubs hatch they find plenty to eat, and are soon big burying-beetles, like their mothers and fathers.

"Did you ever wonder how the little fat worms get inside of chestnuts and acorns? A beetle called a weevil is the creature which puts the fat worms there. Mrs. Weevil has a long, slender, curved beak. She crawls up on to the side of a chestnut, bores a hole in the side, then lays an egg deep down in it. After a while the egg hatches and a tiny grub begins to feed on the nut. Fatter and fatter it gets; sometimes it lies in the nut all winter, but more often it crawls out and buries itself in the ground while it grows into a weevil.

"Some day, as you are walking along a sunny road in the country, you may meet a blister-beetle. It is a pretty, bluish-green color, and when you pick it up you will see drops of oil oozing out of its joints. The dried bodies will raise a blister on the skin, and that is the reason we call such beetles blister-beetles. There is a queer blister-beetle who lays her eggs near bees' nests. The baby beetles then wait for a bee to come along. They fasten themselves to the hairs on the bee's body. When the bee goes to its nest to put in the honey the young beetle manages to get into a honey-cell with the egg. Mrs. Bee does not see that anything is amiss, seals up the cell, and flies away for another load. The larva first eats the egg of Mrs. Bee, then it changes into a clumsy kind of a fellow, floats in the honey, and eats all it can so that it will quickly become a grown-up.

"There is one beetle which plants a tiny fungus in its home in the ground. The babies run along and eat the tips of this delicacy, while the mothers and fathers take larger bites. These are called ambrosia-beetles, because of the dainty food they eat. Now that the storm is over, I mustn't tell you anything more than a few words about the engraver-beetle, which lives between the bark and the live wood of a tree. Mr. and Mrs. Engraver-Beetle make a long tunnel under the bark.

Mrs. Engraver makes notches along the sides, and in every notch lays an egg. When the babies hatch, each one begins a tunnel for itself, running out straight from the long one. And now that's the end of this story."

"Well, Ben," said Tom, respectfully, "these children don't know the value of the things they are learning. It's a privilege, sir, to have a chance to guide with you. I've learned more in these last years about G.o.d's wonders from you than ever I learned in all my long life. I didn't know there were so many beetles in the world."

"These are only half a dozen of a mult.i.tude of beetles which we haven't the time to name."

"Now, off to bed, children," said Mrs. Reece, "or you'll never be able to get up early. Good-night to every one!"

XIV

A DAY'S HUNTING

It was a glorious day after the night's storm. By five o'clock the children were ready to go hunting with Ben Gile.

Although they were rather sleepy, yet they managed to get an early breakfast--five o'clock is an early breakfast, isn't it?--and by six o'clock they were off into the woods. Ben Gile made the children follow behind him in single file, and so in line, making as little noise as possible, they went through the woods. The birch-trees and poplars, in the midst of the darker, heavier foliage, seemed golden with the early sunlight. Everywhere the bushes sparkled with the rain of the night before. They took a path that ran almost in a curve around one entire side of the mountain. Ben Gile kept a sharp lookout, for the partridge, he knew, would be upon the ground or up in the trees. He pointed to several places where partridge had been scratching. The woods were full of them, and every minute he expected to hear the whir of their wings as they started up. And, sure enough, there was suddenly a loud beating of wings, and then, crack! crack! crack! from the shot-gun. Down came three plump partridges. Not more than ten minutes later the old man brought down three more. Then he let Jack, who was a good shot, take his gun, and down came two more.

"Eight partridge," he exclaimed, "and quite enough for us all! We shoot only what we actually need for food, not a bird more. Oho! somebody else made a home here. Old Paw Bear has been tearing it out and licking his chops."

The children leaned forward, looking eagerly. "What was it?" they asked.

"Honey," said the guide. "Paw Bear has a sweet tooth for honey and berries."

"I should think the bees would sting him," said Jimmie.

"They do try to, but little he cares, with his thick coat of hair. Not a bit. The bees have another enemy, too, which is always hovering about to find a chance to get into the busy little house; that is the bee-moth.

If she gets the least opportunity Mother Bee-Moth lays her eggs in the wax of the honeycomb, for the baby moths are very fond of wax. It's not an easy matter to get in when the bees are not looking, but she manages it quite often; and when the little larvas hatch out of the eggs, they eat the wax and the mischief is done. When Mother Bee-Moth is seen the bees rush upon her and sting her to death. They have good cause to hate her, for the wax is precious, hard to make and to mould into the little cells. It is not pleasant to have some miserable worm eat the roof from your head. Oftentimes the bees are so discouraged that they decide, as they talk it over in bee language, that it is easier to build a new home than to repair the old one. They settle upon an hour of departure, and off they go."

"But I didn't know," said Betty, "that bees live in their hives; I thought that they just stored their honey there."

"So did I," said Jimmie.

It was Jack's time to smile, for, a country boy, he had often watched the hives. "Couldn't you tell us something, sir? Here's a bit of the cone left."

"Do you want to hear?"

"Oh, I think bees are so interesting!" Betty clapped her hands.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LEAF-CUTTER BEE]

"Did you ever look closely at a bee? Their bodies are covered with hairs, unlike the hairs found on other insects, for each hair is a tiny plume. And their mouths, which they have to use for so many different things, are remarkably made; each part is formed to do a certain kind of work. First there are the strong biting jaws, then another pair of jaws joined to the lower lip, which move easily back and forth. This forms a sucking instrument, which the bees use for drinking nectar."

"My," exclaimed Peter, "it must be convenient to have two pairs of jaws!"

"On the head, too, are antennae, which form little elbows, like those of the ant. With these the bee smells and feels. Some bees have short tongues, and usually live alone; others have long tongues, and generally live in colonies. Perhaps a long tongue makes an insect sociable, and perhaps sociability makes a tongue grow long."

The children were looking at their tongues to see which had the longest.

Peter scanned his anxiously. "Your tongue is awfully long, Pete," said Jack.

"I know an interesting short-tongued bee who lives in a house by herself. Her name is Andrena. She bores a hole in the ground, digging out a wide hallway. From this she digs side pa.s.sages, each one ending in a little closed room. The walls of these rooms are hard and shiny, like porcelain. When Andrena finishes her house she makes a nourishing paste of nectar and pollen. Pollen is the yellow powder from flowers.

You know bees, by carrying about the pollen, help in fertilizing the flowers. But of this we shall learn more some day when we are talking about the flowers. This powder the bee packs down into the little rooms.

Then she lays an egg on each pile of food and builds a door to shut the egg away safely."

"Do bees always feed their children on nectar and pollen?" asked Hope.

"Always," replied the old man. "They never feed their babies on other insects, as the ants and wasps do. Then there are the little short-tongued bees who live in apartments, the apartments all cl.u.s.tered together, with a common wide pa.s.sageway into the ground and separate hallways. Around the main opening is an odd chimney, built on a slant, which prevents the rain from pouring into the open doorway."

The children were wide-eyed with astonishment. That bees should build chimneys was more than they could believe!

"Goodness!" said Jimmie, "if that is what a short-tongued bee can do, what can a long-tongued bee do?"

"They are very clever. Some are carpenters, some masons, some miners, some tailors. The leaf-cutter bee makes a neat home, covering the walls with pretty, green leaves. First she digs a tunnel in a suitable branch of wood; then she goes to a rosebush, cuts out an oval piece of a rose leaf, and arranges it smoothly on the walls of the tunnel; cuts other oval pieces and puts them on, fastening the edges neatly together. In the bottom of the tunnel she puts some pollen paste, lays an egg on the paste, cuts some circular pieces of rose leaf, which she presses on the top of the egg and pollen, forming a green roof for the room and a floor for the room above. She puts in more food and another egg, until the tunnel is full of little rooms."

"And what does the carpenter-bee do?" asked Jack, looking with new respect at the bit of honeycomb he held in his hand.

"She makes doors of pith, and, like the tender mother she is, sits on top of the nest waiting for her babies to grow up. This is a most unusual thing for a bee mother to do. The egg at the very bottom of the tube hatches first, but it has to wait until the others hatch.

By-and-by Mrs. Carpenter-Bee takes them all out for a sunny flight in the summer air."

"And they never come back any more!" sang out Peter.

"Indeed they do, you care-free youngster. The pith doors have been taken down, and they come back to put things in order. They clean house; they bring out every sc.r.a.p piece by piece. There is a big carpenter-bee that makes its doors of chips of wood, usually neatly glued together. There is just one lazy bee in the world of which I know, and that is a visiting-bee."