THE CONVICT TRAIL 207 



but the remainder were somewhat faded and 

 chipped at the edges. The dehcate little beings 

 slept soundly. I waited until dusk began finally 

 to settle down and crept gently toward a Red- 

 spot. I brought my face close and aroused no 

 sign of life. Then I reached up and slowly 

 detached the butterfly from its resting place. It 

 moved its feet slightly, but soon became quiet. 

 Then I gently replaced it, and at the touch 

 of the twig, its feet took new hold. When I 

 released its wings it did not fly but sank back 

 into the same position as before. I wondered if 

 I was the first scientist to pluck a sleepy butter- 

 fly from a jungle tree and replace it unawak- 

 ened. At the time I was more impressed by the 

 romantic beauty of it all than by its psycho- 

 logical significance. I wondered if heliconias 

 ever dreamed, I compared the peacefulness of 

 this little company with the fierce ants which 

 even now were just disappearing from view. 

 These were my thoughts rather than later medi- 

 tations on whether this might not be a sort of 

 atavistic social instinct, faintly reminiscent of 

 the gregariousness of their caterpillar youth. 



From any point of view I shall think better 

 of all butterflies for this discovery; their desire 



