Crip and I reached the entrance and looked about us. Mountainous black clouds still frowned, and in the distance thunder rumbled. It was much brighter, but still the sun was hid and a haze of mist hung about the world as far as eye could see.
“We cannot safely go yet,” cried Crip. “The storm might break again. Besides, there is no honey in the fields; it has been washed away by the rains. It will be several hours before a trace can be found; even a day or two will pass ere some of the flowers fill their cups. The rain destroys the flow of honey for a time, and too much rain will cut off the crop entirely.”
While we were talking Buzz-Buzz approached. “Well,” he said, “you ran away and left me, but I warn you that when there are things to do you will find me close to you.”
Presently we all rose on our wings, for the rain seemed to have spent itself and the wind in the catclaw tree had fallen to a whisper. The three of us flew, for a while keeping closely in touch, but I was determined to guide, and had set my mind on seeing my sunflower-field. I feared, and, as it proved, rightly, that the floods had swept them away. On reaching the spot where the beautiful flowers had grown, we found it a quagmire full of broken stalks. Nothing was there to remind of the fragrant and glorious garden which only this day had displayed its choicest blossoms to gladden the earth. And now all had vanished.
I said not a word, but Crip seemed to divine the reason which inspired my flying round and round about the spot where I had gathered my first load of honey and where I had heard the fascinating speech of the flowers of the sun. He circled about with me, while Buzz-Buzz, puzzled at our actions, sailed in wider curves. He did not lose sight of us, however, and presently joined us again.
“What’s all this about?” he queried.
“Why, only to-day this spot was wonderful with flowers. Look at it now!” I had spoken.
“That is nothing extraordinary,” observed Crip. “It is only a chapter out of any life you choose. They had achieved all the things for which they were sent into the world. They were ready to go.”
It was hard for me to think that the tender little blossom which had given me honey had filled its full scope of existence. It seemed fit for days of service. What a pity that it was not permitted to radiate its beauty in a world all too barren!
We said very little more, but made for home. This must have been instinctive, for suddenly we found the darkness descending upon us like a flood.