"If only we knew which stream they ascended!" lamented Cunora, as they stood in indecision before a fork in the river.
"But we don't!" Rolla pointed out philosophically. "We must trust to luck and Mownoth, ye and I."
And despite all the effort the doctor could put forth to the contrary, the two women picked out the wrong branch. They searched as diligently as two people possibly could; but somehow the doctor knew, just because of the wrong choice that had been made, that their search would be unsuccessful. He thought the matter over for a few moments, and finally admitted to his three friends:
"I wonder if I haven't been a little silly? Why should I have been so precious specific in impressing Rolla about the pyrites? Pshaw! Almost any hard rock will strike sparks from flint!"
"Why, of course!" exploded Van Emmon. "Here—let's get busy and tell
Rolla!"
But it proved astonishingly difficult. The two women were in an extraordinary condition now. They were continually on the alert. In fact, the word "alert" scarcely described the state of mind, the keen, desperate watchfulness which filled every one of their waking hours, and caused each to remain awake as long as possible; so that they invariably fell to sleep without warning. They could not be caught in the drowsy state!
For they knew something about the bees which the four on the earth did not learn until Billie had overheard Supreme giving some orders.
"Set a guard on that river bank," she told her subordinate, "and maintain it night and day. If any inferior attempts to recover the magic stone, deal with him or her in the same manner in which we punished the finders of the deadly flower."
"It shall be done, Supreme. Is there anything further?"
"Yes. Make quite sure that none of the inferiors are missing."