Darkness
fell upon a crowd which was reeling in self-induced mental intoxication.
Rolla and Cunora came a little nearer; and still remaining hidden, saw
that more than half their friends had succumbed. One by one the
remainder dropped out; their forms lay all about what was left of the
fire. The two women could easily see what their friends were blind to:
the bees were simply biding their time.
"Ought we not to rush in and warn them?" whispered Cunora to Rolla.
"Surely the flower hath driven them mad!"
"Hush!" warned the older woman. "Be quiet! Everything depends upon our
silence!"
It was true. Only two of the villagers remained upon their feet, and
shortly one of these staggered and fell in his tracks. The one who was
left was Corrus himself, his immense vitality keeping him going. Then
he, too, after a final whoop of triumph and defiance, absolutely
unconscious of the poison-laden horde that surrounded him, fell
senseless to the earth. Another minute, and the whole crowd was still.
AND THE FIRE HAD GONE OUT.
The bees came closer. Several thousands of them were stricken by smoke
from the embers, and the rest of the swarm took good care to avoid it.
They hovered over the prostrate forms of the aborigines and made sure
that they were unconscious.
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