162 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



bearer's good-will, but of equilibrium. The Spider 

 would adopt an indefinite further number of foundlings, 

 if the dimensions of her back afforded them a firm hold. 

 Let us be content with this. Let us restore each family 

 to its mother, drawing at random from the lot. There 

 must necessarily be interchanges, but that is of no impor- 

 tance: real children and adopted children are the same 

 thing in the Lycosa's eyes. 



One would like to know if, apart from my artifices, in 

 circumstances where I do not interfere, the good-natured 

 dry-nurse sometimes burdens herself with a supplement- 

 ary family; it would also be interesting to learn what 

 comes of this association of lawful offspring and stran- 

 gers. I have ample materials wherewith to obtain an 

 answer to both questions. I have housed in the same 

 cage two elderly matrons laden with youngsters. Each 

 has her home as far removed from the other's as the size 

 of the common pan permits. The distance is nine inches 

 or more. It is not enough. Proximity soon kindles 

 firece jealousies between those intolerant creatures, who 

 are obliged to live far apart so as to secure adequate 

 hunting-grounds. 



One morning I catch the two harridans fighting out 

 their quarrel on the floor. The loser is laid flat upon 

 her back; the victress, belly to belly with her adversary, 

 clutches her with her legs and prevents her from moving 

 a limb. Both have their poison-fangs wide open, ready 

 to bite without yet daring, so mutually formidable are 

 they. After a certain period of waiting, during which 

 the pair merely exchange threats, the stronger of the two, 



