HAPPY 



spring, however, might end them, even if they had 

 escaped the fury of the winter." 



There seemed no end to Crip's knowledge. Lying 

 there on the comb, he looked pathetically helpless, and 

 there was a quaver in his voice. I could see that he 

 was reflecting that age had dropped upon him heavily 

 on account of his wounds. Then, stoic that he was, I 

 knew that some morning I should search in vain for 

 trace of him. Once a bee becomes useless, he said, 

 there is but one thing for him to do. I knew that 

 Crip was already contemplating the end. Bitterness 

 for a moment welled up in me at the thought that 

 so much wisdom should be lost and so soon. That 

 was the edict. But, after all, was the wisdom really 

 lost? 



Our talk was broken at length by the call of the 

 morning. The first pale gleams of light filtered through 

 the entrance of the hive. Already there were mur- 

 murings and presently the faint note of the swarm. 



Two hours passed three hours and now the trum- 

 pet sounded for the flight. Each of the chosen rushed 

 to the nearest cell and filled his sac to its utmost 

 capacity. Some early-returning foragers, laden with 

 pollen, heard the signal and made ready to go, carrying 

 with them their loads. Stores must be taken along 

 to last until comb was built and new supplies gath- 

 ered from the fields. Rations for three or four days 

 were thus provided. When all was ready the trumpet 

 sounded again and the march began. In the fore 

 went the scouts who'were to lead the way to the new 

 home. Then, following after, came the chosen ones 

 in a mighty multitude, and lastly the Queen, 



