rs! Our soldiers!" whispered the ladies-in-waiting at
her side.

The last thing Maya heard in the little room where her
companions put her to bed was the tramp of soldiers marching
past her door and commands shouted in a blithe, resolute,
ringing voice. Into her dreams, echoing as from a great
distance, she carried the ancient song of the soldier-bees:

Sunlight, sunlight, golden sheen,
By your glow our lives are lighted;
Bless our labors, bless our Queen,
Let us always be united.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI

THE BATTLE

The kingdom of the bees was in a whirl of excitement. Not even
in the days of the revolution had the turmoil been so great. The
hive rumbled and roared. Every bee was fired by a holy wrath,
a burning ardor to meet and fight the ancient enemy to the very
last gasp. Yet there was no disorder or confusion. Marvelous the
speed with which the regiments were mobilized, marvelous the way
each soldier knew his duty and fell into his right place and
took up his right work.

It was high time. At the queen's call for volunteers to defend
the entrance, a number of bees offered themselves, and of these
several had been sent out to see if the enemy was approaching.
Two had now returned--whizzing dots--and reported that the
hornets were drawing near.

An awesome hush of expectancy fell upon the hive. Soldiers in
three closed ranks stood lined up at the entrance, proud, pale,
solemn, composed. No one spoke. The silence of death prevailed,
except for the low commands of the officers drawing up the
reserves in the rear. The hive seemed to be fast asleep.
The only stir came from the doorway where about a dozen
wax-generators were at work in feverish silence executing their
orders to narrow the entrance with wax. As by a miracle, two
thick partitions of wax had already gone up, which even the
strongest hornets could not batter down without great loss of
time. The hole had been reduced by almost half.

The queen took up an elevated position inside the hive from
which she was able to survey the battle. Her aides flew
scurrying hither and thither.

The third messenger returned. He sank down exhausted at the
queen's feet.

"I am the last who will return," he shouted with all the
strength he had left. "The others have been killed."

"Where are the hornets?" asked the queen.

"At the lindens!-- Listen, listen," he stammered in mortal
terror, "the air hums with