138 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



omen of deliverance near at hand. The scouting-path 

 inside the vase, which was upholstered in silk yesterday 

 and the day before, is to-day followed to its origin on 

 the rim by a part of the band and is then deserted after 

 a short stop. The other caterpillars follow the usual 

 ribbon. The result of this bifurcation is two almost 

 equal files, walking along the ledge in the same direction, 

 at a short distance from each other, sometimes meeting, 

 separating farther on in every case with some lack of 

 order. 



Weariness increases the confusion. The crippled, who 

 refuse to go on, are many. Breaches increase; files are 

 split up into sections each of which has its leader, who 

 pokes the front of his body this way and that to explore 

 the ground. Everything seems to point to the disinte- 

 gration which will bring safety. My hopes are once 

 more disappointed. Before the night the single file is 

 reconstituted and the invincible gyration resumed. 



Heat comes, just as suddenly as the cold did. To-day, 

 the 4th of February, is a beautiful, mild day. The 

 greenhouse is full of life. Numerous festoons of cater- 

 pillars, issuing from the nests, meander along the sand 

 on the shelf. Above them, at every moment, the ring 

 on the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together 

 again. For the first time I see daring leaders who, drunk 

 with heat, standing only on their hinder prolegs at the 

 extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling themselves 

 forward into space, twisting about, sounding the depths. 

 The endeavor is frequently repeated, while the whole 



