68 THE BROOK BOOK 



of him was the tips of his jaws, motionless and 

 sand -colored. I looked down into each pit in 

 turn and assured myself that all were occupied. 



"Here comes that ant with her soup-bone!" cried 

 Ellen. 



"Now we'll see what happens if she undertakes 

 to cross one of these pits without a bridge," said the 

 Professor. 



Nearer and nearer came the ant. Why had she 

 come that way ? She passed the first pit safely with 

 her cumbersome load. On, on ! What fatal instinct 

 led her to the very edge of the pitfall occupied by 

 our late acquaintance, who had not much more 

 than settled himself in his old quarters ? The 

 grasshopper wing caught on a pebble, the ant ran 

 round to get a better hold, lost her bearings, and 

 rushed over the brink of the pit. The treach- 

 erous, shifting sand gave way under her weight, 

 she lost her balance, slipped, regained her footing 

 and made a rush for the solid ground, rattling a 

 quantity of sand down upon the motionless jaws of 

 the lurking ant-lion. 



Suddenly a jet of sand shot out of the bottom 

 of the pit. The aim was not perfect, but the scat- 

 tering sand so bewildered the foolish ant that she 

 lost the ground she had gained. She floundered, 

 fell, and lost hold of her troublesome burden. 

 The grasshopper wing fell lightly to the bottom of 

 the pit and was seized by the jaws in a clutch that 

 knows no loosening. Instead of taking advantage 

 of this lucky turn of affairs, the ant continued to 

 rush about on the sloping sides of the pit, rattling 



