Part 2

It was still very dark, but I began to move about drowsily, giving no heed to the way. From comb to comb I clambered, passing over unexplored regions. Presently I came to what was clearly the outermost comb. I saw a lot of workers tugging and pulling at the cells. I stopped and watched them. Each cell had its bee or bees busily engaged upon it. They would seize the sides of it with their sharp mandibles, and, by dint of biting and drawing, extend it little by little. I could see that it was a laborious process, this building of comb. I was standing quite still, looking on and meditating, when, without ceremony, one of the comb-builders rushed up to me and began to touch my body, then left as suddenly as he had come. Instantly I was inclined to resent this treatment, and called to him as he turned:

“What is all this about?”

He did not stop to answer, and I was left to discover that he had mistaken me for a comb-grower. Just what that meant I was soon brought to understand.

Hours passed and still I hung around the comb-builders, until I felt that I had mastered the secret of the art. Then slowly I turned and made my way back to my home cell, tired, but greatly pleased with my experiences.

I suppose I must have slept, for with startling suddenness it dawned on me that the night had passed. The faintest light was coming into our hive, and over the whole colony there was ringing the early summons to the field. The cry caught me and unconsciously I moved forward with the workers, a solid stream of them making way to the entrance. I, too, passed out, and once more—now the full dawn upon me—stopped upon the alighting-board and flapped my wings, essaying flight, only to find that I could not lift myself.

I was distressed and sick at heart. I wanted to go—I knew not where; but instead, there I was, an obstruction; and I could not immediately re-enter the hive on account of the outward press of workers. The growing light, and then the sudden burst of the sun, quite fascinated me. Besides this, the flight of a thousand of my brothers, each taking the note of the field-worker when about to embark, filled me with longing to go into the wide world that spread around and that called me with infinitely tender phrases.

I suppose I was acting strangely, as well as blockading the entrance, when one of the guards mildly remonstrated with me and suggested my re-entering the hive. By this time practically all the veteran honey-gatherers had gone, and indeed those first out were beginning to return, chanting the song that tells of a successful foray into the fields. So, following the mandate of the guard, I seized the opportunity of falling in the wake of a laden bee. Instinctively I followed him.

He rushed along like mad, darting into the hive, and then over the bottom-board to a point where a bridge of wax stretched downward within his reach. Up it he scampered, with me at his heels, until he came to the very spot where the workers had been building cells the night before. Finding one to his liking, he buried himself in it, and in a moment had emptied his sac, depositing the honey at the bottom of the cell. Before I could turn around from inspecting what he had done he had gone. He appeared delighted to think he had been one of the first to return with a load, and as he went out I heard him calling aloud to his fellows to follow him, for he had found a new rich harvest field.

I hurried along and reached the alighting-board in time to see him fly, closely pursued by half-a-dozen eager workers. I rambled about on the alighting-board, constantly buzzing my wings for I knew not what reason, when I overheard one say:

“There’s that Happy again!”

It made no difference to me, for I was determined to stay to watch the incoming bees, and presently the worker I had followed inside returned and, at the briefest intervals, those that had gone with him. And now a real sensation was astir. These half-a-dozen all began to cry aloud:

“Hurry—hurry—honey—honey.”

In the briefest space a multitude was flying over the field to I knew not what rich storehouse. Indeed, every worker, on returning, was told the great news, and from one I gathered that a colony was being robbed, that something tremendous had happened. _The Queen had died!_

I knew not what robbery meant, nor had I ever heard the word _queen_.

“What is a queen?” I asked.

One of the guards stared at me impatiently. “You had better go inside.”

I refused to comply with the suggestion; on the contrary, I remained where I was, ever and anon flapping my wings, and presently to my overpowering joy I felt my body being lifted off my legs, and without thinking I rose in the air! It was a wonderful sensation. I hardly knew what I was doing, but back and forth I flew about our hive, looking and looking to make sure I should know it when I returned; for now, indeed, I felt my soul bounding within me and that the wide world, upon which I had yearningly gazed, was about to swallow me up. Back and forth I flew, ever widening the distance, taking into view other white-faced hives and trees and houses, until presently, in a long spiral I rose into the heavens. Up and up I went toward the sun, glorying in the power of wings and the infinite grandeur of the world that spread out below me. How far away it seemed and how cool and green and inviting! I could hear around me strange noises, mingled with the whirring of wings. The note of my hive now and again faintly broke on my ears, and I knew that my brothers were traveling the airy spaces, working ever toward a goal far removed from thinking.

I did not feel lonely at all, but after a time I decided to return to my house to make sure that I knew the way. You would be surprised to know how straight I came back to it. Down and down I dropped into the bee-yard, and, turning right and left, without further thought I landed on the alighting-board. Immediately a guard fell upon me, but passed me without question. Then, with glee bubbling in my soul, I fled into the hive and set up such a buzzing for joy as I think none ever surpassed.

Now that I had taken my first flight into the blue, I felt at last that the world had truly opened for me, and that I was a real bee with duties and responsibilities—and without hesitation I accepted them. Rushing around in uncontrolled delight, I heard again the laden workers murmuring about the great stores of honey they were taking. It seemed, from what I could gather, that practically all the workers of the hive were directing their course to this new, rich field.

I was listening as hard as ever I might to all this converse, when an important bee cried out:

“Why don’t you get to work?”

Up to that moment I had done nothing nor had I even then thought of it, but at the suggestion I made off, following to the entrance and then into the air a worker bound for the unknown treasure-field. I got off a little more slowly than he, but to my surprise I found I could easily outfly him. We had gone but a short distance when he began to descend, and, with no ceremony, landed at the same instant on the alighting-board of a strange hive where a thousand bees were struggling. I discovered immediately that many of the bees around were strangers to me and that all acted like mad—pushing, pulling, and fighting. Some were struggling to get in and some to get out. I saw at once that those outward bound were heavily laden with honey, and that they had to fight the hungry bees scrambling for a taste of the nectar. I collided with an old fellow heavily loaded and was about to attack him, when he hurled me aside. I was now aflame with the passion of acquisition. Honey I must have, even if it cost my life!

I scrambled along with the rest to get in and finally succeeded. But there the trouble began. Whether it was because I looked young or was really ignorant of the procedure, the first thing I knew a bad-tempered, elderly bee attacked me. I learned long afterward that he was one of the last survivors of the colony, fighting to the end. First, he seized me by the leg, but I kicked him off; then, undaunted, he got me by the wing in such a way that I could not shake him, and the next thing I knew he was about to sting me. Other bees were rushing pell-mell over us. I felt the tiniest prick of his stinger, and then with a supreme effort I escaped his clutches. I rushed away from the spot and soon came upon a batch of honey over which it appeared ten thousand bees were quarreling and fighting. Without thinking, I fell into the scrimmage and by some chance finally landed on a half-filled cell, and into it I plunged.

Here my troubles began afresh. Hundreds of bees piled on top of me and all but drowned me in the honey I was intent on possessing. For a minute my head was buried in it and I began to strangle. But by a mighty effort I escaped.

It was almost as difficult to get out of the hive as it was in; and on my return journey a hungry, malevolent bee intercepted me and demanded that I divide my load with him. On my refusing he seized me by a wing and jerked me so violently that I thought he had all but torn it off. I fought him from the start, but, he being a stalwart and I heavily laden, he thrashed me almost into a lifeless state. To add to my terrible mischance, another freebooter, more vicious than the first, joined against me, and the two of them overcame me quickly and robbed me of my load. They left me half senseless and I was only too glad to escape with my life.

I flew as straight as an arrow to my home, feeling outraged and exhausted. After all, I was not powerful—not important. I was crestfallen; but I did not even have to think of the direction or the location of my house, and you may be assured I was glad to return to it, if only to make sure that I was alive and knew the road. At the same time I was still under the impression that I had some honey in my sac. Nobody had taught me how to unload it, but I went forward to a cell. Imagine how downcast I was to find that not an atom of honey had been left me! I was infuriated; so resolved at once to try again. Hurriedly I went to the place for another load, but found the bees had nearly all gone. Once inside, I discovered that not a drop of honey remained, hence the reason for their leaving. I was wandering about when a poor crippled bee approached. Could this be one of the rascals that robbed me and who had suffered a worse fate?

“Won’t you have pity on me and let me go home with you?” he said, sorrowfully. “I’m all alone in the world.”

His tone and request cut me deeply; he was clearly no robber, for I saw that he was broken-hearted and had but five legs—one of his basket-legs was missing. And how wretched he looked!

“Have you no home?” I asked, with compassion.

“This was my home, but you and ten thousand like you have destroyed it. There wasn’t much left of it, though, when our Queen-Mother died.”

I felt guilty as a thief caught red-handed. Remorse was at my throat.

“Yes,” I said, “you may go home with me. But tell me about your Queen-Mother. What became of her?”

Then he began a fascinating story which kept me rooted to the place, desolate as it was.

“Well, it was this way: One sunny afternoon, a long time ago, our Queen-Mother went for a flight into the outer world, a thing she did but rarely—and never returned. Have you ever lived in a house without a Queen-Mother? You do not understand, then, what a terrible thing that is.”

He stopped short and would say no more.

“Please go on!” I urged.

“Some day I’ll tell you all of it. It is a long story, but for us the end was in sight. In the large economy of the universe our efforts were futile. Better for us and for the great Life of the Bee that the honey we had gathered should be conserved by strange colonies, and that our short lives should be yielded up or dedicated to strengthening them, than that it should be left rich booty to web-worms and mice. So it came to pass, you and others found out our condition and sought our stores, as it has been written you should. We fought at first, half-heartedly—as one without friends or kinsmen or home will fight. You saw the end of the battle. It is over. And now will you let me go home with you? You see I have but five legs, but I can still work and help do the things that remain to be done.”

So absorbing had been his story, I quite forgot myself, and while I answered, “I’m so sorry for you, and want you to come,” my thoughts were far away.

The things he had told me out of his life and out of the life of the colony had gone deep in my breast. Turning from him, I looked around and, lo! the hive was silent as death. Not a thing of life remained except this poor, miserable, orphaned bee. Death had come, and now stood guard over the portal of the little home where once a beautiful spirit had brooded, and where some of the laws we may not understand had come to fulfilment....

“Come with me,” I said, in a whisper.

He followed, limping but uncomplaining.

On the bottom-board we saw a number of dead bees which I had not noticed on going in, I had been in such haste.

“So many of my brothers are dead,” he murmured, “why should I want to live? Because I am needed? You think I am needed? You think I am commanded by the high powers to give my energies and my intelligence to the problems that confront us? Perhaps that is true, and I shall bide by the call and give my life to my new family.”

We came at length to the entrance; I noticed that he turned and looked in a dazed way at the things about him. It was a sad farewell. His little brothers had gone. His tribe had perished. He should see his home never again.

Then I rose on my wings and he followed me ever so closely. A new chapter in our lives had opened.

Scarcely were we risen in the air when I discovered the Master walking near my home. I seemed to know instinctively that he was our Master. Towering into the air and walking with such majestic tread, he filled me with wonder and admiration. Nor was I less interested in the Little One that ran at his heels. Stories there were of these two, eddying about the hive—of their kindness and also their malevolence. How mighty they appeared! I had seen them but once before. That picture was still vivid.

We were not long in reaching home. Without ceremony I lit on the board and instantly my friend was beside me. At the same moment a guard accosted him and seized him, recognizing him as an intruder. I interfered, but almost unavailingly, for the guard was about to sting him. The two of us escaped this guard only to be attacked by another, which we beat off, and hurriedly entered the hive. I was almost certain that yet others would question the stranger, and sure enough, we had barely got inside before another guard summarily attacked him. Poor fellow, with only five legs and tired from the combats of the day, he could make but a poor fight. Again I rescued him, and again we raced into the interior. And now, happily, our troubles were over. Without thinking, I made straight for my cell, with “Crip,” as I began to call him, at my heels.

He seemed to realize that he was a stranger and that he owed his life to me, for he clung to me as closely as possible. He seemed to know, too, that the ground whereon I stood was sacred to me. He did not speak for a time, nor did I. We simply hung limp on the comb, and rested. He broke the silence:

“You have a wonderful colony, I can see. I hope I shall grow into it as though it were my own. Indeed, in a sense it is my own, for all bees are sprung from the same source, and the life of the bee is kept alive by us, each in his own cell. I know now that I shall grow into it. Listen to that voice! How long it is since I heard a Queen-Mother sing!”

I roused myself, somewhat confused. “Queen-Mother!” I stammered.

“Yes. Won’t you take me to her?”

I hardly knew how to answer; I had never seen her myself, although I knew from Crip’s story and from some unknown source that there was somewhere a reigning spirit. But my life had been so brief and I had already learned so many things, I said, as lightly as I might, “Let us go.”

He seemed to know the way to her. He hobbled along as best he might on his five legs. He was now no longer suspected as an intruder, and we marched without interruption. Presently we climbed through a hole in a comb and came face to face with our Queen-Mother.

I stopped, dazed, overcome by her serenity. The grace and magnificent proportions of her body and the fire of her eyes held me entranced. I shall not live long enough fitly to describe my emotions. There she was, queenly and wonderful, and yet simple as any one of us. She approached us and appeared to nod, as if to say, “I salute you, my children.” Then she went on with her labors.

I turned to Crip. He was speechless.

Immediately we started back to our cell, for it was henceforth to be his also.

“It is strange,” he said. “I do not understand it. Life and death are in her keeping, and yet she knows it not. You and I don’t count for much. We pass like the leaves, but life everlasting lingers in her body—the very spirit of things ranges through her. But I am content with my insignificant place, to live my life, doing my duty from day to day.”

I did not answer him. We fell silent as we made our way across the combs.

“Suppose we take a turn in the woods,” he suddenly suggested, wheeling about and heading for the door. “I have new bearings to get and you have new lands to explore.”

“I supposed you knew this country,” I ventured.

“I do, but the way to this new home of mine must be learned.”

Out into the air we hurried, but he flew back and forth many times before our door. He wanted to make sure that he knew it; then, flying round and round in ever wider circles, we mounted with ecstasy into the higher reaches. Lake Espantoso, with its border of great oaks, lay below us like a bar of silver; and the Master’s house stood like a sentinel beside the white hives which, row on row, spread beneath us in the sun.

“That prominent knoll,” said Crip, “is a thing to remember, if you are returning late and flying low. And remember, too, that in that window of the Master’s house a lantern burns. This may sometimes be a guide. But, mark you, never fly into it, though you may be tempted. Better still, get in before it is too dark. Just there by that row of hives is a tree to remember. It is a glory in the spring with its yellow flowers, until the cutting ants get it. They clip off the leaves and blossoms. But it is an excellent land-mark, nevertheless. And there’s the Master,” went on Crip, “and the Little One, and that horrid dog. That little boy sits by for hours while the great one labors with some of us. The horrid dog sleeps—I’d like to sting him. Things will go wrong—the Master sets them to rights. He seems to know everything; and yet, when he took away some of our honey, in spite of our having vast stores of it, we fought him. The little he took harmed us not at all, and I suppose we fight him because our brothers have done so for centuries. But I talk too much.”

After a rather long flight, and much interesting converse, we reached our door again. Crip’s experience with the guard was still fresh in his mind, for he clung closely to me for protection. But the guard this time passed him without a word. He had acquired the scent and the note of the hive, and henceforth his life and all the energies of his body would be merged with that of the colony.

When we had returned to our cell we halted, and for a season remained quiet. Indeed, we slept a tiny bit, as much as ever a bee can sleep at a stretch, and then we fell into meditation. Among other things, I was wondering what the Queen-Mother was doing when she popped her long, thin body into each cell as she made her rounds. I could not understand and so I called on Crip to explain.

“Why, laying eggs!” he said, right sharply, as though annoyed at my ignorance.

“Well, what are eggs?” for I was still no wiser.

“Come with me,” he said, and off we went across the combs.

He did not stop until he reached the very spot where we had seen the Queen. The odor of her was still strong thereabouts, but she had gone.

“Now look, stupid!” Crip said. “At the bottom of each of the cells in this section of comb is an egg.”

I looked down into one and, sure enough, a small, thin, yellowish-white egg was stuck squarely in the center of it. I looked into several other cells, and each had its one egg.

I shall never forget the story which he went on to unfold. The wonderful cycle from egg to larva, from larva to bee, he explained in fascinating detail. I saw at once that he was a real sage, that his knowledge was boundless, and then to crown it he told me that even the Queen-Mother herself had sprung from an ordinary egg, having been converted through miracle into a queen ruling over this empire. Simply by feeding and tending them differently—only the bees in their wisdom know how—the egg which might develop into a worker or a drone, passing through a metamorphosis, can be made to break from the dark cover of the cell the personification of life eternal, as exemplified in the body and the life of the Queen.

I could not quite understand all these things, but I felt sure Crip was telling the truth; and indeed I began to look up to him with increasing admiration and wonder on account of the worlds of things he knew.

We were silent awhile. There rose again for me the night hymn of the hive. It penetrated me as not before; it had a new significance, a new message—I had been visited with a revelation. The sight I had gained of the Queen-Mother woke new and tremulous emotions within me—there was a new meaning in life.

Crip stirred rather sharply, breaking my train of thought.

“What’s the matter?” I queried.

“I’m tired holding on. We must get another place to rest. You see, with only five legs the load of my body grows heavy.”

With that we moved up the comb to the top of it, and there he spread himself out with a little hum of content. And just then I developed a curiosity to know how he had lost his leg.

“You miss your leg, but do you suffer pain on account of it? And how did it happen?”

“That’s a short story. I was coming home late one day, well laden with honey, when, without warning, one of those terrible black bee-hawks darted for me and clutched me, sailing away to the nearest bush. He had quickly rolled me up with his powerful legs and almost by the time he lit he was ready to kill me with one thrust of his proboscis. Of course I had struggled, but when one of those fellows gets his claws on you it’s good-by. I had about ceased to struggle when suddenly there came a tremendous shock, and the next moment I was rolling on the ground and shaking myself free from the mutilated hawk. He had been torn to pieces by some mysterious force, and my leg, my bread-basket leg, was gone. At that moment the Master approached me; in his hands he held a long black thing which I had seen emit fire on other occasions, and somehow I suspected at once he had saved me. The little boy came hurriedly up, stooped over me and helped release me, and in a moment I was circling round to get my bearings. The little boy and the Master—and even the dog—watched my movements with an expression of satisfaction on their faces. I flew straightway home and was thankful still to be alive.”

“Tell me more about this Master,” I begged, for I was now growing vastly interested in his activities and in those of the Little One, and even the dog which once I tried to sting, because he came so close to our hive.