THE LIFE OF A BEE 



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 shak- 

 ing 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 



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