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Flint, Homer Eon, 1892-1924

"The Emancipatrix"

"We cannot slay them all."
The bees attacked with unabated fury. Not once did the insects falter;
orders were orders, and always had been. What mattered it if death came
to them, so long as the Hive lived? For that is bee philosophy.
And then, just when it seemed that the wisest thing would be to
withdraw, Supreme got the greatest idea she had ever had. For once she
felt positively enthusiastic. Had she been a human she would have yelled
aloud for sheer joy.
"Attention!" to her subordinates. "We attack no more! Instead, go into
the huts and drive all the inferiors here! Compel them to bring their
tools! Kill all that refuse!"
The lieutenants only dimly grasped the idea. "What shall we do when we
get them here?"
"Do? Drive them against the invaders, of course!"
It was a daring thought. None but a super bee could have conceived it.
Off flew the lieutenants, with Supreme's inspired order humming after
them:
"Call out every bee! And drive every last one of the inferiors to this
spot!"
And thus it came about that, a minute later, the nine looked around to
see the bees making off at top speed. Sorplee raised a cheer.
"Hurrah!" he shouted, and the rest took it up. Neither admitted that he
was vastly relieved; it had been a little nerve-shaking to know that a
single thickness of leather had been all that stood, for an hour,
between him and certain death.


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