"But why didn't the rest of the bees follow him? They followed this
other bear to-day!" protested the Babe feelingly.

"Well, they didn't!" returned Uncle Andy quite shortly, with his
customary objection to being interrupted. Then he thought better of
it, and added amiably: "That's a sensible question--a very natural
question; and I'll give you the answer to it in half a minute. I've
got to tell you my yarn in my own way, you know--you ought to know it
by this time--but you'll see presently just why the bees acted so
differently in the two cases.

"Well, as soon as Teddy Bear had got rid of his assailants he clawed
down through the leaves and twigs and moss--like _I_ did just now, you
remember, till he came to the damp, cool earth. Ah, how he dug his
smarting muzzle into it, and rooted in it, and rubbed it into his ears
and on his eyelids! till pretty soon--for the bee stings do not poison
a bear's blood as strongly as they poison us--he began to feel much
easier. As for the rest of his body--well, _those_ stings didn't
amount to much, you know, because his fur and his hide were both so
thick.

"At last he sat up on his haunches and looked around. You should have
seen him!"

"I'm glad I wasn't there, Uncle Andy," said the Babe, earnestly shaking
his head. But Uncle Andy paid no attention to the remark.

"His muddy paws drooped over his breast, and his face was all stuck
over with leaves and moss and mud--"