skillful treatment, and as the child still retained her place in Mary's lap
she said,

"Can you tell us why such pretty little things as bees have such terrible
stings? My hands felt as if they were on fire when I was first stung, and I
could not help crying out with the pain."

"Well," said Mary, "there was a time when the bees had no stings, and they
were as harmless as the house flies. They were just as industrious as they
are now, but they had any amount of trouble in keeping their honey from
being stolen from them, for every creature loves it.

"In vain they hid their combs away up in hollow trees and in the clefts of
high rocks. The bears, which are very fond of honey, were ever on the
lookout for it, and were very clever in getting it when once they found
where it was hidden away. Birds with long beaks would suck it out, and even
the little squirrels were always stealing it. The result was that whole
swarms often starved in the long winters, because all their honey, which is
their winter food, was stolen from them. The bees were in danger of being
destroyed. They gave up working in great numbers together, and scattered
into little companies, and in the most secret places tried to store away a
little honey, just enough to keep them alive from season to season. But
even these little hives were often discovered and the honey devoured.

"Things had come to such a pass with them that they had almost given up
hope of lasting much longer.

"Fortunately for them, word was circulated that Wakonda, the strong
spirit--the one who sent the mosquitoes--was coming around on a tour, to
see how everything was progressing. He was greater than even Nanahboozhoo,