THE ANTHRAX FLY 



to become a pupa again. For the full-grown Fly has no 

 claws, nor mandibles, nor any implement capable of 

 working its way through the wall. 



Can it be, then, the grub that makes its own way into 

 the storeroom, that same grub that we have seen sucking 

 the life out of the Bee's larva? Let us call the creature 

 to mind : a little oily sausage, which stretches and curls 

 up just where it lies, without being able to shift its 

 position. Its body is a smooth cylinder, its mouth a 

 circular lip. It has no means whatever of moving; not 

 even a hair or a wrinkle to enable it to crawl. It can do 

 nothing but digest its food. It is even less able than the 

 mother to make its way into the Mason-bee's dwelling. 

 And yet its provisions are there: they must be reached: 

 it is a matter of life and death. How does the Fly set 

 about it? In the face of this puzzle I resolved to 

 attempt an almost impossible task and watch the 

 Anthrax from the moment it left the egg. 



Since these Flies are not really plentiful in my own 

 neighbourhood I made an expedition to Carpentras, the 

 dear little town where I spent my twentieth year. The 

 old college where I made my first attempts as a teacher 

 was unchanged in appearance. It still looked like a 

 penitentiary. In my early days it was considered un- 

 wholesome for boys to be gay and active, so our system 

 of education applied the remedy of melancholy and 

 gloom. Our houses of instruction were above all houses 



[263] 



