“If it had been a tree that he was looking for, it wasn’t much to see. It hadn’t a green leaf on it, and only a few scraggly branches. But he was not a bird, nor a squirrel; he was a Bee Baby. And considered as a beehive, it left nothing to wish for. There was the fine hollow trunk to store the honey; and a round knot-hole near the ground, for the bees to pass in and out, all day long, in sunshiny weather. And that funny brown baby never seemed tired of watching them—hurrying off, and coming back dusty with pollen, and with masses of it in the pockets on their legs, or laden with clear, sweet honey. Sometimes a bee lit on his finger. Then the wise baby sat quite still, and never brushed it off; so he didn’t find out that it carried a needle in its tail—as sharp as its temper. (But he was careless about letting the dimple come in his cheek. It’s a wonder the bees didn’t fly in, it was so deep and red and sweet.)
“When the baby came to the tree this morning, even he could see that something was different. The bees were not going about the business of the day—gathering honey—in their usual orderly fashion. No, indeed! They were running in and out of the knot-hole, helter-skelter; and such a humming as there was inside the tree!
“He came close to the trunk to listen, and a gray cockatoo sat on a tree near by and watched. And it’s a pity there was no one else to see what a quaint little figure he was, with one arm clasping the tree-trunk, as far as it would go, with a cake still grasped in his chubby hand, and his ear pressed against the rough bark—listening—listening—
“‘Buzz-z-z-z,’ hummed the bees; and the baby listened, with lips apart,—serious and wondering.
“Then that soulless cockatoo ‘squawked’ as if it were the funniest thing in the world, and swung herself, head down, around the branch where she had been sitting; and then worked her way into the next tree, clutching the vines with beak or claw, squawking all the way. She had neither manners nor dignity; and she was a grandmother, too.
“Her noise startled the Bee Baby so he toppled over; but he didn’t mind, and sat where he fell, to finish his cake and to watch.
“The buzzing in the hive was louder now, and there were very few bees outside. Then—all at once—they began to come out in numbers, and flew wildly about before they collected on a low branch near by. You can’t imagine how many there were—all in a dark cluster clinging to the vine. The baby never had seen anything like it, and his eyes were round with amazement. He got up from the hummock, to see more plainly.
“Perhaps because he disturbed them, as he came near, the whole mass rose together in the air, and flew up a natural path through the forest. And straight after them went the Baby!
“But it was not a fair race; for they had wings to fly, and several thousand eyes apiece to see where they were going; and he had only his two small feet to carry him, and his one pair of eyes to watch the bees. So he couldn’t look where his feet were going; and the next thing that happened—he tripped and fell on his nose.
“It didn’t hurt him, and he picked himself up; but the bees were gone, and he could only follow on in the direction they had flown.