The night came and we cleared our house of the dead. Scattered indiscriminately they lay—friend and foe—many score of them. Among them I found the veteran who had been kind to me, with the mark of a lance in his breast. Certain it was that he had died fighting bravely. I had found his body, and I determined to keep it by me through the night, and on the morrow I meant to give a fitting burial. I remembered a high knoll overlooking the lake and the country round about, and there I said he should be laid to rest. I told Crip of my purpose, and he applauded me, and together we watched over him. More than once we almost had to fight to prevent the cleaners from taking his body away.
On the morrow, in the early dawn, I dragged him forth and, taking him in my mandibles, flew away with him, dropping him on the knoll. The poor old veteran! Somehow I had gained the notion that one day he would awake, and from that vantage-point find himself nearer the stars.
We now began another chapter in the life of our colony. We were left with none too much honey, and, besides, our numbers had been greatly depleted by the exodus and by the assault of the robbers. Our Queen-Mother immediately organized her followers and sent us all scouring the fields for additional foods. Thanks to the late season, there still remained an abundant harvest. Soon we had replenished our supplies to a point where we could rest comfortably, and our good mother set about rearing just enough brood to have us weather the winter safely. But we never stopped work. Day after day we gathered bread and honey.
“We cannot have too much,” said Crip. “You see, since you have not gone through a winter you have much to learn. It is no simple business. Frightful northers sweep down upon us and chill us and kill us. Sometimes it grows so cold the young bees are frozen in their cells. They must then be removed, or else sickness and disease will follow. Sometimes, too, if stores run low and our numbers fall below a certain point, we ourselves can no longer keep warm. That means death for us all.”
“But we have plenty of stores,” I replied. “We have nothing to fear.”
“There are always fears. An animal running wild may topple over your house; a bad man may slip in and steal your supplies; a moth may enter and lay eggs producing destructive worms; a bear may chance to find you and with his great paws rend the hive asunder!”
“Stop!” I cried. “If there are yet other dangers, I do not wish to know them.”
“But it is well to know. There are diseases to combat, such as dysentery, paralysis, and foul brood—”
“Oh, stop!” I begged him.
Was life really such a hazard? so perilous a journey? And all for what? Toward what misty goal?