Of course, nobody suffered but the bees. Never before had they
swarmed a creature which did not succumb; but these inferiors with the
queer things over their faces, and the cows' hides over their bodies and
hands, seemed to care not at all. Supreme was puzzled.
"Keep it up," she ordered. "They surely cannot stand it much longer."
"It shall be done!"
And the bees were driven in upon the men, again and again. Always the
torches were kept waving, so that the insects never could tell just
where to attack. Always the men kept moving steadily down-stream; and as
they marched they left in their wake a black path of dead and dying
bees. Half of them had been soldier bees, carrying enough poison in
their stings to destroy a nation. Yet, nine little matches were too much
for them!
Presently the invaders had approached to within a half-mile of the
torture-place. One of Supreme's lieutenants made a suggestion:
"Had we not better destroy the men, rather than let them be rescued?"
The commandant considered this fully. "No," she decided. "To kill them
would merely enrage the other villagers, and perhaps anger them so much
as to make them unmanageable." More than once a human had been driven so
frantic as to utterly disregard orders.
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