The Life of the Fly 



than that wherewith my catches are soaked. 

 I heap them up loosely, to avoid any grievous 

 tumult and to fill the space at my disposal as 

 best I may. I take no further precaution. This 

 is enough to keep the Caddis-worms in good 

 condition during the two or three hours which 

 I devote to fishing and to walking home. 



On my return, I find that a number of them 

 have left their houses. They are swarming 

 naked among the empty scabbards and those 

 still occupied by their inhabitants. It is a piti- 

 ful sight to see these evicted ones dragging 

 their bare abdomens and their frail respiratory 

 threads over the bristling sticks. There is no 

 great harm done, however; and I empty the 

 whole lot into the glass pond. 



Not one resumes possession of an unoccu- 

 pied sheath. Perhaps it would take them too 

 long to find one of the exact size. They 

 think it better to abandon the old clouts and 

 to manufacture cases new from top to bot- 

 tom. The process is a rapid one. By the 

 next day, with the materials wherein the glass 

 trough abounds — bundles of twigs and tufts 

 of watercress — all the denuded worms have 

 made themselves at least a temporary home 

 in the form of a tube of rootlets. 



The lack of water, combined with the ex- 



200 



