“Cabot,” the voice continued, “do you not know me? Do you not recognize
him whom you rescued from the spider web and who afterward spared your
life near Saltona, although you had robbed his honey store? It is I,
Portheris, who speak to you. Put down your gun and give me help, or I
perish.”
There could be no longer any doubt as to the source of that mysterious
voice. It was the whistling bee who was speaking! Cabot sheathed his
weapon. Switching his controls back to the normal range of Cupian
speech, he instructed Hah Babbuh to put up his weapon likewise. Hah, who
had heard nothing, was much mystified, but nevertheless obeyed his
superior.
Switching to the bee’s wave length again, Cabot said: “Portheris, once
you spared me. ‘A life for a life.’ I am yours to command. How badly are
you hurt?”
“I cannot exactly tell. But I think and hope that it is nothing more
than a broken wing-joint.”
At Cupian wave length Cabot then asked: “Is there with our army any one
versed in insect ailments?”
“There is,” Hah replied, “for my aide, Emsul, studied such under the ant
men at Mooni. But surely you do not contemplate helping this bee, for it
is well known that the whistling bees, although unwittingly they are
assisting us in this war, yet nevertheless do not themselves distinguish
between Cupians and Formians as enemies.”
“_This_ bee is a friend of mine,” the earthman asserted, “and will not
hurt Emsul, if I tell it not to. Quick, send for Emsul, for if he can
save the life of this whistler, I believe that we are about to receive
an important accession to our forces.”
But Hah was still unconvinced. “How can you ‘tell’ him? Whistling bees
cannot talk.”
“I can whistle, though,” laconically replied his superior.
So a private was sent on the double quick for Emsul.
The veterinarian, when he arrived a few paraparths later, approached the
wounded insect most gingerly; but finally his professional curiosity got
the better of him, and he plunged into his work. It was the first time
that any physician, either Cupian or Formian, had ever examined a live
bee, and accordingly it was a great day for science!
Emsul’s inspection convinced him that all that was amiss was a broken
wing and shock, and that with care Portheris would entirely recover, so
a huge litter was improvised. Then came the question of getting the
enormous creature onto this litter. He was too weak to be of very much
assistance; but, by dint of great effort, and much prying by means of
poles, and some kicking by the bee’s own legs, they finally got him on.
Then six men grasped each end of each handle, and bore the striped
creature in triumph to headquarters, where he excited the wonder of the
entire staff, and not a little fear.
To appreciate the situation fully, we must use an earthly analogy.
Imagine a party of British officers hunting in the jungles of India in
the company of a near-human creature from another planet—say Mars, for
instance—and coming upon a wounded man-eating tiger. Imagine the man
from the skies talking in apparent silence with the tiger, and then
informing the astonished hunters that the tiger is a friend of his, and
must be brought into camp and treated for his wounds. How could they
know that the ferocious beast would not turn and devour them, when
cured, or even during the process? Only a supreme confidence in the man
from the other planet would induce them to go through with the program.
But the Cupians had just such a trust in Myles Cabot, and so they dared
to risk befriending the bee. Emsul set the wing-joint in a splint, and
several green cows were driven in for the bee’s delectation. After that
he slept.
* * * * *
When Portheris had rested, Cabot called in Toron, Hah Babbuh, Poblath
and Buh Tedn, and—alternately tuning to the two ranges of
speech—broached to them his plan.
“Portheris,” he asked the bee, “how is it that you know our language
although your range is so different from ours?”
“That question has oft been discussed among us,” Portheris replied, “and
we have always regarded the other inhabitants of Poros as either stupid
or rude. Do you remember shouting to me after the fight at Saltona,
‘Don’t! Was it for this that I saved you from the spider?’ I heard you,
and stayed my sting. Yet, when I answered you, you gave no heed. It has
always been thus. Cupians and Formians alike have never replied when
spoken to by Hymernians, or ‘bees’ as you call us. Why is it, I ask you
in turn?”
“Stop this whistling,” interjected Poblath, “and tell us what it is all
about.”
Cabot, being tuned to another wave length, did not hear him. The bee,
however, heard and informed Cabot, who obligingly shifted his controls
and explained.
“As I figure it out,” he said, “these bees can send and receive on
either of two different wave lengths. One of these is about the same as
that of Cupian speech, and on this the bees merely whistle, so that
whistling is the only sound which you ever hear them utter. On the other
wave length they talk, but as this is outside the range of your
antennae, you never hear it. But they can hear you talk, when they are
tuned to receive the whistles of their own breed. And I can both hear
them and send to them, by tuning my artificial speech-organs to their
higher wave length.”
“It sounds plausible,” Toron assented judicially.
The others were astounded.
Then tuning back to the shorter wave length, the earthman continued his
conversation with the bee.
“If you Hymernians have the intelligence to understand and to talk our
language, how is it that you have no more sense than to attack the ant
men, whose rifles render them invincible against you?”
“I know not,” Portheris replied, “save that we cannot resist a fight. I
suppose it is for the same reason that smaller insects seek a light,
only to be destroyed.”
“Then if you _must_ fight,” Cabot suggested, “why do you not fight in
swarms, and thus overwhelm your adversaries by sheer weight of numbers?”
“It never occurred to any of us,” the bee answered, simply. “We are an
independent race. We fight for the love of fighting, rather than any
desire for victory.”
“Would you consider a project whereby you could achieve more effective
battles?” Myles asked.
“Probably.”
“What do you think, then, of this plan? I will equip each Hymernian with
a fighting man armed with a rifle, to ride upon his back. If you will
assemble your brethren together, I will train them in the tactics of
aerial battle formation. Of course, all your fighting will have to be
done right-side-up, lest you dislodge your riders. No side-slips, no
spirals, no loop-the-loops. But this disadvantage will be offset by the
weight of overwhelming numbers. By the way, speaking of numbers, how
many Hymernians could you muster?”
The bee made a mental calculation.
“About three thousand.”
“Fine!” the earth-man ejaculated. “The Formians at present cannot have
more than a thousand ships. Thus, with the training which we can give
you, and with the equipment which we can supply to you, you can go forth
and conquer your hereditary enemies, the ant men. And when you have
returned victorious, you shall live at peace with the Cupians, who will
breed for you special herds of the choicest green-cows to satisfy your
need for food. What do you say, O Hymernian?”
“It is a wonderful plan!” Portheris murmured devoutly. “May the Great
Architect speed the mending of my wing.”
The plan and its approval were then conveyed to the assembled Cupians,
who went wild with enthusiasm at the prospect of once more regaining
control of the air.
“It spells sure victory,” Hah Babbuh soberly declared.
“Yes,” Poblath the philosopher assented. “The Great Architect builds to
peculiar plans, but the resulting edifice is perfect.”
“Let’s go,” said Toron, who was beginning to pick up earth slang from
Cabot.
And so, a few sangths later, when Portheris had entirely recovered, he
flew away, to return in several days with a vast concourse of his winged
brethren.
It was indeed an imposing spectacle. Three thousand orange-and-black
bees, each the size of a horse, winging their way through the air in
such swarms that they obscured the silver skies and darkened the ground
beneath. And the noise! Cabot alone could hear the combined hum of
twelve thousand wings, but the Cupians were nearly deafened by the
whistling.
Finally all the bees settled down and found resting places on the
surrounding rocks. Portheris reported that all had agreed to follow him
in this new undertaking, and their battle lust was hard to restrain.
There, in the presence of a large part of the Cupian army and of his own
followers, Portheris the First was crowned King of the Bees, and he and
Toron concluded the treaty of alliance between Cupia and the bee-people.
Cupia at last had an air navy!
But Cupia by no means yet had control of the air. First it would be
necessary to discipline and train that wild and lawless winged horde.
And some task it was! Cabot had to take personal charge of the
instruction, for although others could talk _to_ the Hymernians, he was
the only person on all Poros who could hear and understand their
replies.
And it was with great difficulty that he kept back the half-trained bees
from spoiling the whole show by picking a fight with every Formian
airplane which appeared.
At last, however, the animate air fleet were completely subjugated and
trained. All that the Cupian leaders awaited was the auspicious moment
at which to strike.