“Probably,” he answered.
“Here’s one on the ground that seems to be alive.”
We both lit beside the little fellow struggling to dry himself. We approached and licked him all over, and when he could fly Crip begged him to come home with us, since his own colony had ceased to exist.
Right gladly he followed us; but when we had reached the entrance he seemed to realize the seriousness of daring to enter a strange hive. He drew back, but we urged him, standing one on either side. Almost immediately, however, a guard scented him and flew at him. Crip headed him off, but another quickly attacked from the same quarter. He caught the stranger, and it was all I could do to save him. When we finally freed him of the advance guards, we said to the stranger, “Run for your life!”
We three rushed like mad into the hive and escaped further interference, and never again was he questioned as to his identity.
He marched with us straight up to our cell, and thenceforward he claimed it for his own.
“What shall we call him?” I asked of Crip, when we had left him to recover and were once more on our way to the fields.
“Let’s see. Suppose we call him Buzz-Buzz.”
“Excellent!” I cried.
So, Buzz-Buzz it was, then and ever after.