THE LIFE OF A BEE 



had seen them but once before. That picture was still 

 vivid. 



We wfere not long in reaching home. Without cere- 

 mony 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!" 



4* 



