So Hansel took up the beehive carefully and began to climb. It seemed at every step as if the wind would surely blow him away; but he kept on and on, and at last he was at the top of the rock and had put the hive into the place that the bees pointed out. The storm grew worse and worse until it almost seemed as if the rock itself would be blown over. “I don’t see how your hive is going to stay there,” said Hansel. “The moment I let go, it will fall down and be blown to nobody knows where.” “Please stay and hold it for us,” the bees pleaded anxiously. “It’s all I can do to hold my head on my shoulders,” replied Hansel. But the bees still begged, “Do stay and help us, do help us.” “All right, I’ll try it,” said Hansel, “but it looks as if the hive and the rock and myself would all blow away together.” The wind blew as if it feared it would never have another chance and meant to make the best of this one. The rain fell, not in drops, it seemed to Hansel, or in pailfuls, but in whole pondfuls, in oceanfuls. He threw one arm around the hive and the other around a jagged point of rock, and there he clung for dear life. It was a hard pull for the tired boy, but after a while the storm cleared as suddenly as it had arisen. Many of the wandering bees returned and made their way into the hive and were safe. The other bees buzzed a welcome to them, and Hansel could not help being glad that he had saved their home. They clustered around Hansel and buzzed their thanks into his ear. They gave him all the honey he could eat and a fine large piece of comb to carry away with him. “But where are you going?” they asked. “Everywhere and nowhere,” answered Hansel. “I haven’t any father or any mother or any place to stay in, and I am going out into the world to seek my fortune.” “There’s no good fortune to be found on this road,” declared the bees. “You must go back to where the four roads meet and choose another.” “There are roads enough in the world,” said Hansel with a laugh, “but somehow none of them seem to be the right ones.” “Every one has his own road,” said the bees. “Some find it in one day, some in two days, and some in three days, but there is surely a road.” “All right, I’ll go back and try the road uphill,” Hansel said. “Bees are wise, I know. Can you tell me whether I shall find my fortune on that road? The mountain is so steep that I am sure I should break my neck if I had to come down it by night; and then, too, there are no more roads to try.” “We must not say any more,” buzzed the bees, “but we can make you a gift that will be of help in time of need”; and they brought out from the farthest corner of the hive a tiny seed as yellow as their own honey. “Take good care of this,” they said, “for the time will come when you will have need of it. And there is one thing more; we have some advice for you.” “I’ve had two pieces already,” rejoined Hansel, laughing, “and yet I don’t seem to be wise enough to find the right road.”