“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.
[Illustration: CHAPTER SIX