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!”