THE LIFE OF A BEE 



Crip walked to the edge of the board and looked 

 down. "Why, he isn't dead." 



I looked, and, sure enough, he seemed to be alive. 

 But on closer inspection I saw that a multitude of 

 small black creatures had taken possession of the 

 body. 



"He is dead for certain," I said. "Some bugs have 

 seized him for prey." 



Crip looked again. "Why, those are black army 

 ants," he exclaimed; "one of the worst enemies a bee 

 can meet. Sometimes, when they are hungry, they 

 rush into the hive and help themselves. It is most 

 difficult to deal with them. They nab you by the leg, 

 when they do not sting you, and you cannot free your- 

 self from their deadly grip." 



I looked at Crip in silence. Was there no end to 

 perils ? 



" Let us hope they'll travel on," he added. "There's 

 plenty of food abroad for them. But tell me, where 

 did you find that worm?" 



"Back in the far corner. Come with me. I was 

 cleaning out the debris when I came upon him." 



"Well, did you finish your task?" 



I had quite forgotten it. I had been so absorbed 

 in the fight that the original undertaking had gone 

 out of mind. 



" Then come on. I'll help you." 



With that Crip led off, limpingly. I followed by his 

 side, amazed at his speed. 



Soon we came to the place. Each of us seized a bit 

 of the debris, and away we went to deposit it far from 

 the entrance to our home. 



