I THE SACRED BEETLE 15 



or less thus : " Hullo, you there ! My load is upset 

 in a hole yonder ; come and help me to get it out. 

 I will do as much for you another time." And are 

 we to suppose too that his colleagues understand 

 him ? And, more wonderful still, that they leave 

 their work, their ball newly begun, their beloved ball, 

 exposed to the greed of others, and certain to be 

 filched during their absence, in order to help the 

 supplicant ! I am profoundly incredulous of so 

 much self-sacrifice, and my incredulity is borne out 

 by all which I have seen during many long years, 

 not in collection boxes, but on the spots where the 

 Scarabaei work. Outside of the cares of mater- 

 nity — cares in which it almost always shows itself 

 admirable, the Insect — unless, indeed, it lives in 

 society like bees and ants and some others — thinks 

 and cares for nothing but itself. 



Let us drop this discussion, excused by the im- 

 portance of the subject. I have already said that a 

 Scarabaeus, owner of a ball which it is pushing 

 backwards, is often joined by another which hastens 

 to its aid with interested views, ready to rob if it 

 gets the chance. Let us call the pair associates, 

 though that is hardly the name for them, since one 

 forces itself on the other, who perhaps only accepts 

 help for fear of worse. The meeting is, however, 

 perfectly peaceable. The arrival of the assistant 

 does not distract the proprietor for an instant from 

 his labours ; the newcomer seems animated by the 

 best intentions, and instantly sets to work. The 

 way they harness themselves is different for each. 

 The owner of the ball occupies the chief position, 

 the place of honour ; he pushes behind the load, his 



