THE LIFE OF A BEE 



the distance thunder rumbled. It was much brighter, 

 but still the sun was hid and a haze of mist hung about 

 the world as far as eye could see. 



"We cannot safely go yet," cried Crip. "The storm 

 might break again. Besides, there is no honey in the 

 fields; it has been washed away by the rains. It will 

 be several hours before a trace can be found; even a 

 day or two will pass ere some of the flowers fill their 

 cups. The rain destroys the flow of honey for a time, 

 and too much rain will cut off the crop entirely." 



While we were talking Buzz-Buzz approached. 

 "Well," he said, "you ran away and left me, but I 

 warn you that when there are things to do you will 

 find me close to you." 



Presently we all rose on our wings, for the rain 

 seemed to have spent itself and the wind in the cat- 

 claw tree had fallen to a whisper. The three of us flew, 

 for a while keeping closely in touch, but I was deter- 

 mined to guide, and had set my mind on seeing my 

 sunflower-field. I feared, and, as it proved, rightly, 

 that the floods had swept them away. On reaching 

 the spot where the beautiful flowers had grown, we 

 found it a quagmire full of broken stalks. Nothing was 

 there to remind of the fragrant and glorious garden 

 which only this day had displayed its choicest blossoms 

 to gladden the earth. And now all had vanished. 



I said not a word, but Crip seemed to divine the 

 reason which inspired my flying round and roun 

 about the spot where I had gathered my first load of 

 honey and where I had heard the fascinating speech 

 of the flowers of the sun. He circled about with me, 

 while Buzz-Buzz, puzzled at our actions, sailed in 



