But now, no sooner was the wax-cluster in position than the
workers below broke out again.
"Come down!" they cried. "Come down and work! Come on, you
Levantine parasites! Don't think to enjoy yourselves up there
while we're sweating down here!"
The cluster shivered, as from hooked fore-foot to hooked
hind-foot it telegraphed uneasiness. At last a worker sprang up,
grabbed the lowest waxmaker, and swung, kicking above her
companions.
"I can make wax too!" she bawled. "Give me a full gorge and I'll
make tons of it."
"Make it, then," said the bee she had grappled. The spoken word
snapped the current through the cluster. It shook and glistened
like a cat's fur in the dark. "Unhook!" it murmured. "No wax for
any one to-day."
"You lazy thieves! Hang up at once and produce our wax," said the
bees below.
"Impossible! The sweat's gone. To make your wax we must have
stillness, warmth, and food. Unhook! Unhook!"
They broke up as they murmured, and disappeared among the other
bees, from whom, of course, they were undistinguishable.
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