Presently I could see well enough to rise on my wings, and in spite of the chill in the air, up I went until I got my bearings. A strange fit seized me. “Fly to the sun!” I heard in my ears; and off I went. Up and up I flew—higher and higher—until below me I could scarcely see the white houses of the apiary where I lived and the white house of the Master. But under me the waters of Lake Espantoso glimmered like a mirror, and in the dark fringe of trees that bordered it I remembered a swarm of my little brothers had taken refuge, and I wondered how they fared. Far as I could see stretched the undulating hills over which I had flown in search of treasure—hills now clad in their robes of autumn. A fragrance reached me at this great height, which came from I knew not where.
I had wheeled about and started home, when I caught sight of the Master wandering dreamily in his garden. Then immediately I knew that the fragrance came from his beautiful roses. Many a time had I flown over the place, marveling at the flowers. Indeed, I had gathered honey from the honeysuckle that climbed on the walls of his house and from the crêpe-myrtle hard by. But the roses—ah, the roses! I loved to drop into their hearts and to breathe the sweet breath of their lives. So again, without thinking, I flew down and down until I reached the garden and sank into a rose to rest. I felt tired, ever so tired. When I emerged there was the Master fondling a rose; I circled slowly past him and around him. He saw me at once, and a tender look came into his eyes. Reluctantly I left him caressing his roses, and flew rapidly home.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TIDINGS OF WOE
It was still so early that a chill enveloped the world and the workers awaited the sun. I rushed to where I knew I should find Crip, and breathlessly began the narrative of my adventure.
“I know just about what happened,” he ventured, when he had expressed his joy at seeing me, for he knew that I had been on duty and that a number of the guards had been lost. “I wept not a little for you. Yes, it was a racoon,” he repeated. “You will remember I told you about them. They are crazy over honey.”
He was deeply interested in the account of my mad and unwilling ride.