The boy nodded towards the east. "What is it?"
"Like the hum of a bee far away."
The old man came to the boy's side and listened.
"I cannot hear it," he said after a few moments, adding impatiently, "Tchk! This is not the time of bees."
"But I hear it still," persisted Marco. "It is louder."
He looked around, puzzled to account for the unaccustomed sound.
"I hear nothing," said his mother.
"Look!" he cried, pointing excitedly into the grey sky.
The eyes of his elders followed his outstretched hand, but they saw nothing.
"It has gone," sighed the boy after a little. "But I did see something. Perhaps it was an eagle. I think it flew just behind the hills there."