nest above us; I think that the nest itself is perfect, I really wish for nothing better, but I should like to be able to get to it without scaling that dreadful ladder every time; could you not make a flight of steps to reach it?”
I carefully thought over the project, and turned over every plan for its accomplishment.
“It would be impossible, I am afraid,” said I, “to make stairs outside, but within the trunk it might be done. More than once have I thought that this trunk might be hollow or partly so, and if such be the case our task would be comparatively easy. Did you not tell me the other day that you noticed bees coming from a hole in the tree?”
“Oh, yes,” said little Franz, "and I went to look at them and one flew right against my face and stung me, and I almost cried, but I didn't.”
“Brave little boy,” said I. “Well, now, if the trunk be sufficiently hollow to contain a swarm of bees, it may be for all we can tell hollow the greater part of its length, for like the willow in our own country it might draw all its nourishment through the bark; and in spite of its real unsoundness retain a flourishing appearance.”
Master Jack, practical as usual, instantly sprang to his feet to put my conjecture to the proof. The rest followed his example and they were all soon climbing about like squirrels peeping into the hole, and tapping the wood to discover by sound how far down the cavity extended.
They forgot, in their eagerness, who were the tenants of this interesting trunk. They were soon reminded of it, however, for the bees, disturbed by this unusual noise, with an angry buzz, burst out and in an instant attacked the causers of the annoyance; they swarmed round them, stung them on the hands, face, and neck, settled in their hair, and pursued them as they ran to me for assistance. It was with difficulty that we got rid of the angry insects, and were able to attend to the boys. Jack, who had been the first
