FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



was reassured, and in a single night she stored a supply 

 of the food I had provided for her. 



Before a week was out I dug up the soil in my insect- 

 house, and brought to light the burrow I had seen her 

 storing with provisions. It was a spacious hall, with 

 an irregular roof and an almost level floor. In a corner 

 was a round hole leading to a slanting gallery, which ran 

 up to the surface of the soil. The walls of this dwelling, 

 which was hollowed out of fresh earth, had been care- 

 fully compressed, and were strong enough to resist the 

 earthquake caused by my experiments. It was easy to 

 see that the insect had put forth all her skill, all her 

 digging-powers, in the making of this permanent home, 

 whereas her own dining-room had been a mere cave, with 

 walls that were none too safe. 



I suspect she is helped, in the building of this archi- 

 tectural masterpiece, by her mate: at least I often see 

 him with her in the burrows. I also believe that he lends 

 his partner a hand with the collecting and storing of the 

 provisions. It is a quicker job when there are two to 

 work. But once the home is well stocked he retires: 

 he makes his way back to the surface and settles down 

 elsewhere. His part in the family mansion is ended. 



Now what do I find in this mansion, into which I 

 have seen so many tiny loads of provisions lowered? 

 A mass of small pieces, heaped together anyhow? Not 



[112] 



