The man and woman and Finan took handfuls of gravel from the roadside and flung them over the bees, and sang again and again, "Never to the wood, fly ye wildly more!" Then they laughed, and the bees swarmed. "Now," said Cædmon, who was a wise cowherd, "hang veneria on the hive, and if ye would have them safe lay on the hive a plant of madder. Then can naught lure them away." When they reached the Hall folk were already eating inside. Little Finan saw Cædmon go in quietly, for Cædmon was attached to the Abbess Hild's monastery and had a right to go in and eat. Inside they were singing for the sake of mirth, and the torches and firelight were flaming. Through the open window--for windows were always open then, and the word window meant literally "wind-eye"--Finan saw the harp being passed from one to another. They sang many songs as the harp passed from hand to hand, songs of war and songs of home. But when the harp was passed to Cædmon, who had charmed the bees, he shook his head sorrowfully, saying that he could not sing, and got up sad and ashamed and went out. Little Finan wanted to shout through the window to him to sing about the bees. He did not dare, for he was afraid of being discovered. Instead he followed behind Cædmon. He wished to ask him why he could not sing. This he did not dare to do, either, but he went on to the fold where the cowherd had gone to care for the cattle. And there on the edge of the fold the little boy, unseen by the cowherd, fell asleep. Shortly afterward Cædmon, too, fell asleep. It must have been near the middle of the night when the stars one and all were shining and dancing with the sheen of millions and millions of elves, and the sea down below the cliff was singing a mighty lullabye, that little Finan started wide awake, hearing a voice speak. "Cædmon," spoke a man who stood beside the sleeping cowherd, "sing me something." Cædmon drowsily answered: "I cannot sing anything. Therefore went I away from the mirth and came here, for I know not how to sing." Again the mysterious stranger spoke. "Yet you could sing." And Finan heard the sleep-bound voice of Cædmon ask, "What shall I sing?" "Sing to me," said the stranger, "the beginning of all things." And at once Cædmon began to sing in a strong voice, and very beautifully, the praise of God who made this world. And his song had all the beat of sea waves in it--sometimes little waves that lapped gently on the shore and bore in beautiful shells and jeweled seaweed. But more often its rhythm was as mighty as ocean waves that tossed big ships. Then the wandering stranger, hearing the beauty of the song, vanished. Cædmon awoke from his sleep, and he remembered all that he had sung and the vision that had come to him. And he was glad. He arose and went to the Abbess Hild to tell her what had happened to him, the least of her servants.