THE CIGALE LEAVES ITS BURROW 23 



volume of debris, we feel dubious once more ; for to 

 hide such a quantity of earth a considerable empty space 

 would be necessary, which could only be obtained by the 

 disposal of more debris. Thus we are caught in a 

 vicious circle. The mere packing of the powdered earth 

 rejected behind the excavator would not account for so 

 large a void. The Cigale must have a special method 

 of disposing of the waste earth. Let us see if we can 

 discover the secret. 



Let us examine a larva at the moment of emerging 

 from the soil. It is almost always more or less smeared 

 with mud; sometimes dried, sometimes moist. The 

 implements of excavation, the claws of the fore-feet, have 

 their points covered by little globules of mortar ; the 

 others bear leggings of mud ; the back is spotted with 

 clay. One is reminded of a scavenger who has been 

 scooping up mud all day. This condition is the more 

 striking in that the insect comes from an absolutely dry 

 soil. We should expect to see it dusty ; we find it muddy. 



One more step, and the problem of the well is solved. 

 I exhume a larva which is working at its gallery of exit. 

 Chance postpones this piece of luck, which I cannot 

 expect to achieve at once, since nothing on the surface 

 guides my search. But at last I am rewarded, and the 

 larva is just beginning its excavation. An inch of tunnel, 

 free of all waste or rubbish, and at the bottom the 

 chamber, the place of rest ; so far has the work pro- 

 ceeded. And the worker — in what condition is it ? Let 

 us see. 



The larva is much paler in colour than those which 

 I have caught as they emerged. The large eyes in 

 particular are whitish, cloudy, blurred, and apparently 



