THE LIFE OF A BEE 



"It might have been worse," he said, when I had 

 told him all that had befallen me. "If you live long 

 enough you will have some real adventures," he con- 

 cluded. 



I was inclined to resent his comment, for I felt that 

 I should never again pass through such a storm and 

 survive. 



"Do you know what a real storm is, Crip?" I asked, 

 with offended pride. But he ignored my query. 



"Listen," he said, suddenly. "Do you hear that 

 alarm?" 



A note I had heard before suddenly ran through the 

 hive. I could not at first remember the occasion, but 

 instantly both Crip and I were off. By the time we 

 were out I remembered what the sound meant. It 

 was the robber-call. There was honey at hand pure 

 honey for the taking, and off we went. 



It was just where the Master stood. He had 

 righted a hive which had blown down in the storm, 

 and was endeavoring to place a net over it, but already 

 thousands of bees were swarming about. 



"It is too late," Crip said to me, as we lit on the 

 bottom-board and hurried into the hive. "They are 

 dead. I see it all. The rains undermined the 

 foundations and the hive toppled over into the 

 ditch. The storm waters crept up and up, sub- 

 merging it." 



A little honey remained in the old combs, and we 

 were soon busy with its salvage. We helped ourselves 

 to one load only, for when we returned the Master had 

 covered over the hive with his net. We flew about the 

 place for a while, hoping to find some tiny hole through 



5 61 



