THE PINE PROCESSION ARY 139 



troop stops. The caterpillars' heads give sudden jerks, 

 their bodies wriggle. 



One of the pioneers decides to take the plunge. He 

 slips under the ledge. Four follow him. The others, 

 still confiding in the perfidious silken path, dare not copy 

 him and continue to go along the old road. 



The short string detached from the general chain 

 gropes about a great deal, hesitates long on the side of 

 the vase; it goes half-way down, then climbs up again 

 slantwise, rejoins and takes its place in the procession. 

 This time the attempt has failed, though at the foot of 

 the vase, not nine inches away, there lay a bunch of 

 pine-needles which I had placed there with the object of 

 enticing the hungry ones. Smell and sight told them 

 nothing. Near as they were to the goal, they went up 

 again. 



No matter, the endeavor has its uses. Threads were 

 laid on the way and will serve as a lure to further 

 enterprise. The road of deliverance has its first land- 

 marks. And, two days later, on the eighth day of the 

 experiment, the caterpillars — now singly, anon in small 

 groups, then again in strings of some length — come 

 down from the ledge by following the staked-out path. 

 At sunset the last of the laggards is back in the nest. 

 Now for a little arithmetic. For seven times twenty- 

 four hours the caterpillars have remained on the ledge 

 of the vase. To make an ample allowance for stops due 

 to the weariness of this one or that and above all for the 

 rest taken during the colder hours of the night we will 



