Several other bees were creeping over him, seeking an effective spot to administer their fiery admonitions.

But he paid them no heed.

They stung him where they would--while he was quickly looking over the Babe's hair, jacket, sleeves, stockings, and loose little trousers.

He killed half a dozen of the angry crawlers before they found a chance to do the Babe more damage.

Then he pulled out three stings, and applied moist earth from under the moss to each red and anguished spot.
The Babe looked up at him with a resolute little laugh, and shook obstinately from the tip of his nose the tears which he would not acknowledge by the attentions of his handkerchief or his fist.
"Thank you _awfully_," he began politely.