legs waving pitifully in the air.

"I'm done for," he wailed, "I'm done for. I can't get back on my
feet again. I'll never be able to get back on my feet again.
I'll die. I'll die in this position. Have you ever heard of a
worse fate!"

He carried on so that he did not hear Maya trying to comfort
him. And he kept making efforts to touch the ground with his
feet. But each time he'd painfully get hold of a bit of earth,
it would give way, and he'd fall over again on his high
half-sphere of a back. The case looked really desperate, and
Maya was honestly concerned; he was already quite pale in the
face and his cries were heart-rending.

"I can't stand it, I can't stand this position," he yelled. "At
least turn your head away. Don't torture a dying man with your
inquisitive stares.-- If only I could reach a blade of grass, or
the stem of the buttercup. You can't hold on to the air. Nobody
can do that. Nobody can hold on to the air."

Maya's heart was quivering with pity.

"Wait," she cried, "I'll try to turn you over. If I try very
hard I am bound to succeed. But Bobbie, _Bobbie_, dear man,
don't yell like that. Listen to me. If I bend a blade of grass
over and reach the tip of it to you, will you be able to use it
and save yourself?"

Bobbie had no ears for her suggestion. Frightened out of his
senses, he did nothing but kick and scream.

So little Maya, in spite of the rain, flew out of her cover over
to a slim green blade of grass beside Bobbie, and clung to it
near the tip. It bent under her weight and sank directly above
Bobbie's wriggling limbs. Maya gave a little cry of delight.

"Catch hold of it," she called.

Bobbie felt something tickle his face and quickly grabbed at it,
first with one hand, then with the other, and finally with his
legs, which had splendid sharp claws, two each. Bit by bit he
drew himself along the blade until he reached the base, where it
was thicker and stronger, and he was able to turn himself over
on it.

He heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.

"Good God!" he exclaimed. "That was awful. But for my presence
of mind I should have fallen a victim to your talkativeness."

"Are you feeling better?" asked Maya.

Bobbie clutched his forehead.

"Thanks, thanks. When this dizziness passes, I'll tell you all
about it."

But Maya never got the answer to her question. A field-sparrow
came hopping through the grass in search of insects, and the
little bee pressed herself close to t