I THE SACRED BEETLE 9 



turned; we have almost got to the top. But gently! 

 gently ! the ascent is perilous, and a mere nothing 

 may ruin all. A leg slips on a bit of smooth gravel, 

 and ball and scavenger roll down together. The 

 beetle begins all over again, with tireless obstinacy. 

 Ten times, twenty times, will it attempt that further 

 ascent, until persistency vanquishes all obstacles, or 

 until, better advised, it takes the level road. 



The scavenger does not always roll his ball 

 single-handed, but frequently takes a partner, or 

 rather, a partner takes him. The affair is usually 

 managed thus : the ball being prepared, a beetle 

 comes out of the throng, pushing it backwards. 

 One of the newcomers, whose own work is hardly 

 begun, leaves its task and runs to the ball, now in 

 motion, to lend a hand to the lucky proprietor, who 

 appears to accept the proffered aid in an amiable 

 spirit. The two work as partners, each doing its 

 best to convey the ball to a place of safety. Was a 

 treaty made in the workshop, a tacit agreement to 

 share the cake ? While one kneaded and shaped, was 

 the other tapping rich veins whence to extract choice 

 material for their common use ? I have never observed 

 such collaboration, but have always seen every beetle 

 exclusively occupied by his own affairs on the field of 

 labour, so that the last comer has no acquired rights. 



Is it, then, an association of the two sexes, a 

 couple about to set up house ? For a time I thought so. 

 The two scavengers pushing a ball, one before and one 

 behind, with equal zeal, used to remind me of certain 

 couplets once on a time popular on barrel-organs — 



Pour monter notre menage, helas comment ferons-nous ? 

 Toi devant, moi derri^re, nous pousserons le tonneau. 



