THE BUSH TRACK 247 



foundation of the earth, and compacted by heat and 

 stress. It is still in the making, and sand, coral, and 

 shell-grit ground to pollen-like fineness and certain 

 chemicals from the reef outside are among its component 

 parts. One other element invokes perpetual thanks- 

 giving — the flaked mica, which glistens delusively with 

 hues of silver and gold, and gives to the tide-swept 

 track that singular pliancy which resists the stamp of 

 passing generations. 



Midway between high and low water is a zone sensible 

 to the airiest tread, being fitted for such temporary 

 effect by a mechanical operation. Millions of the 

 smallest of crabs, sand-tinted, delicate, apprehensive 

 and alert, possess this area, working out their destiny 

 by digging circular shafts. Obedient agents in the 

 ex. cution of the imperative ordinances of Nature, they 

 have the quality of compacting the almost fluid spoil 

 and carrying it to the surface in pellets complementary 

 to the size of the individual, and such pellets retain 

 their rotundity. They are scattered about, not with- 

 out design, as may be seen if the industrious workers 

 are closely observed, and in such profusion that the 

 feet of the user of a crab-infested zone must press them 

 flat. Then it is that the track becomes visible as far 

 as the eyes reach. But the incoming wavelets, babbling 

 in unison, dissolve the myriads of laboriously lifted 

 pellets, effacing the record of the passing of man. As 

 the tides ebb, the crabs begin their work again, pre- 

 paring for the next-coming wayfarer. There is some- 

 thing almost incomprehensively great in the tireless 

 activities of the nervous crabs, for not only do they 

 carry compacted sand from their burrows, but they 

 seem to spend odd moments in forming similar globes 

 from material gathered from the surface. Digging, 

 furrowing the surface in stellate patterns, moulding 



