The Adventures of Maya the Bee Part 10

CHAPTER VII

IN THE TOILS

After her meeting with Puck the fly Maya was not in a particularly happy frame of mind. She could not bring herself to believe that he was right in everything he had said about human beings, or right in his relations to them. She had formed an entirely different conception--a much finer, lovelier picture, and she fought against letting her mind harbor low or ridiculous ideas of mankind. Yet she was still afraid to enter a human dwelling. How was she to know whether or not the owner would like it? And she wouldn't for all the world make herself a burden to anyone.

Her thoughts went back once more to the things Ca.s.sandra had told her.

"They are good and wise," Ca.s.sandra had said. "They are strong and powerful, but they never abuse their power. On the contrary, wherever they go they bring order and prosperity. We bees, knowing they are friendly to us, put ourselves under their protection and share our honey with them. They leave us enough for the winter, they provide us with shelter against the cold, and guard us against the hosts of our enemies among the animals.

There are few creatures in the world who have entered into such a relation of friends.h.i.+p and voluntary service with human beings. Among the insects you will often hear voices raised to speak evil of man. Don't listen to them. If a foolish tribe of bees ever returns to the wild and tries to do without human beings, it soon perishes. There are too many beasts that hanker for our honey, and often a whole bee-city--all its buildings, all its inhabitants--has been ruthlessly destroyed, merely because a senseless animal wanted to satisfy its greed for honey."

That is what Ca.s.sandra had told Maya about human beings, and until Maya had convinced herself of the contrary, she wanted to keep this belief in them.

It was now afternoon. The sun was dropping behind the fruit trees in a large vegetable garden through which Maya was flying.

The trees were long past flowering, but the little bee still remembered them in the s.h.i.+ning glory of countless blossoms, whiter than light, lovely, pure, and exquisite against the blue of the heavens. The delicious perfume, the gleam and the s.h.i.+mmer--oh, she'd never forget the rapture of it as long as she lived.

As she flew she thought of how all that beauty would come again, and her heart expanded with delight in the glory of the great world in which she was permitted to live.

At the end of the garden shone the starry tufts of the jasmine--delicate yellow faces set in a wreath of pure white--sweet perfume wafted to Maya on the soft wings of the breeze.

And weren't there still some trees in bloom? Wasn't it the season for lindens? Maya thought delightedly of the big serious lindens, whose tops held the red glow of the setting sun to the very last.

She flew in among the stems of the blackberry vines, which were putting forth green berries and yielding blossoms at the same time. As she mounted again to reach the jasmine, something strange to the touch suddenly laid itself across her forehead and shoulders, and just as quickly covered her wings. It was the queerest sensation, as if her wings were crippled and she were suddenly restrained in her flight, and were falling, helplessly falling. A secret, wicked force seemed to be holding her feelers, her legs, her wings in invisible captivity. But she did not fall. Though she could no longer move her wings, she still hung in the air rocking, caught by a marvelously yielding softness and delicacy, raised a little, lowered a little, tossed here, tossed there, like a loose leaf in a faint breeze.

Maya was troubled, but not as yet actually terrified. Why should she be? There was no pain nor real discomfort of any sort.

Simply that it was so peculiar, so very peculiar, and something bad seemed to be lurking in the background. She must get on. If she tried very hard, she could, a.s.suredly.

But now she saw a thread across her breast, an elastic silvery thread finer than the finest silk. She clutched at it quickly, in a cold wave of terror. It clung to her hand; it wouldn't shake off. And there ran another silver thread over her shoulders. It drew itself across her wings and tied them together--her wings were powerless. And there, and there!

Everywhere in the air and above her body--those bright, glittering, gluey threads!

Maya screamed with horror. Now she knew! Oh--oh, now she knew!

She was in a spider's web.

Her terrified shrieks rang out in the silent dome of the summer day, where the suns.h.i.+ne touched the green of the leaves into gold, and insects flitted to and fro, and birds swooped gaily from tree to tree. Nearby, the jasmine sent its perfume into the air--the jasmine she had wanted to reach. Now all was over.

A small bluish b.u.t.terfly, with brown dots gleaming like copper on its wings, came flying very close.

"Oh, you poor soul," it cried, hearing Maya's screams and seeing her desperate plight. "May your death be an easy one, lovely child. I cannot help you. Some day, perhaps this very night, I shall meet with the same fate. But meanwhile life is still lovely for me. Good-by. Don't forget the suns.h.i.+ne in the deep sleep of death."

And the blue b.u.t.terfly rocked away, drugged by the suns.h.i.+ne and the flowers and its own joy of living.

The tears streamed from Maya's eyes; she lost her last shred of self-control. She tossed her captive body to and fro, and buzzed as loud as she could, and screamed for help--from whom she did not know. But the more she tossed the tighter she enmeshed herself in the web. Now, in her great agony, Ca.s.sandra's warnings went through her mind:

"Beware of the spider and its web. If we bees fall into the spider's power we suffer the most gruesome death. The spider is heartless and tricky, and once it has a person in its toils, it never lets him go."

In a great flare of mortal terror Maya made one huge desperate effort. Somewhere one of the long, heavier suspension threads snapped. Maya felt it break, yet at the same time she sensed the awful doom of the cobweb. This was, that the more one struggled in it, the more effectively and dangerously it worked. She gave up, in complete exhaustion.

At that moment she saw the spider herself--very near, under a blackberry leaf. At sight of the great monster, silent and serious, crouching there as if ready to pounce, Maya's horror was indescribable. The wicked s.h.i.+ning eyes were fastened on the little bee in sinister, cold-blooded patience.

Maya gave one loud shriek. This was the worst agony of all.

Death itself could look no worse than that grey, hairy monster with her mean fangs and the raised legs supporting her fat body like a scaffolding. She would come rus.h.i.+ng upon her, and then all would be over.

Now a dreadful fury of anger came upon Maya, such as she had never felt before. Forgetting her great agony, intent only upon one thing--selling her life as dearly as possible--she uttered her clear, alarming battle-cry, which all beasts knew and dreaded.

"You will pay for your cunning with death," she shouted at the spider. "Just come and try to kill me, you'll find out what a bee can do."

The spider did not budge. She really was uncanny and must have terrified bigger creatures than little Maya.

Strong in her anger, Maya now made another violent, desperate effort. Snap! One of the long suspension threads above her broke. The web was probably meant for flies and gnats, not for such large insects as bees.

But Maya got herself only more entangled.

In one gliding motion the spider drew quite close to Maya. She swung by her nimble legs upon a single thread with her body hanging straight downward.

"What right have you to break my net?" she rasped at Maya. "What are you doing here? Isn't the world big enough for you? Why do you disturb a peaceful recluse?"

That was not what Maya had expected to hear. Most certainly not.

"I didn't mean to," she cried, quivering with glad hope. Ugly as the spider was, still she did not seem to intend any harm.

"I didn't see your web and I got tangled in it. I'm so sorry.

Please pardon me."

The spider drew nearer.

"You're a funny little body," she said, letting go of the thread first with one leg, then with the other. The delicate thread shook. How wonderful that it could support the great creature.

"Oh, do help me out of this," begged Maya, "I should be so grateful."

"That's what I came here for," said the spider, and smiled strangely. For all her smiling she looked mean and deceitful.

"Your tossing and tugging spoils the whole web. Keep quiet one second, and I will set you free."

"Oh, thanks! Ever so many thanks!" cried Maya.

The spider was now right beside her. She examined the web carefully to see how securely Maya was entangled.

"How about your sting?" she asked.

Ugh, how mean and horrid she looked! Maya fairly s.h.i.+vered with disgust at the thought that she was going to touch her, but replied as pleasantly as she could:

"Don't trouble about my sting. I will draw it in, and n.o.body can hurt himself on it then."

"I should hope not," said the spider. "Now, then, look out! Keep quiet. Too bad for my web."

Maya remained still. Suddenly she felt herself being whirled round and round on the same spot, till she got dizzy and sick and had to close her eyes.-- But what was that? She opened her eyes quickly. Horrors! She was completely enmeshed in a fresh sticky thread which the spider must have had with her.

"My G.o.d!" cried little Maya softly, in a quivering voice. That was all she said. Now she saw how tricky the spider had been; now she was really caught beyond release; now there was absolutely no chance of escape. She could no longer move any part of her body. The end was near.

Her fury of anger was gone, there was only a great sadness in her heart.