“And why are you crying, little boy?” asked the bee.
“I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was driving them along the road to the hills, and they went through the fence, and I have chased them and chased them and they will not come out!”
“Oh,” said the bee, “that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here and I will go into the field and chase them out for you.”
So he flew over the fence and flew straight to the first goat and began to buzz in his ear. The first goat lifted up his head and said: “Ho! What is this?” and he looked all around him, but could see nothing from which to run.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!” said the bee, and he lighted on the ear of the goat.
“Now here is someone that means business,” said the goat, and he shook his head to shake off the bee, but the bee only clung the tighter.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!” he said. Then he stung the first goat in the ear. “Now,” said the first goat, “this is a serious matter. Ouch!” he added, as the bee stung him again. “Come on, you,” he called to the others, “it is time to get out of here!” With that he led them straight to the hole in the fence, and they ran through it, all three of them, and out into the road where the little boy sat with the dog and the fox.
“Oh,” said the dog, “the bee can do something that I cannot, even if he is so small.”
“Yes,” said the fox, “the bee didn’t make much noise, but the noise that he did make counted more than all of our barking.”
