IX 



WITH ARMY ANTS " SOMEWHERE " IN THE 

 JUNGLE 



Pit number five had become a shambles. 

 Number five was one of the series of holes dug 

 along the Convict Trail to entrap unwary walk- 

 ers of the night — walkers or hoppers, for frogs 

 and toads of strange tropical sorts were the 

 most frequent victims. It was dug wide and 

 deep on the slope of an ancient dune of pure 

 white sand, a dune deep hidden in the Guiana 

 jungle, which had not heard the rush and slither 

 of breaking waves for centuries untold. All 

 around this quiet glade was an almost pure cul- 

 ture of young cecropia trees. Day after day 

 the pit had entrapped big beetles, rarely a mouse 

 of some unknown species, more frequently a 

 frog. 



Now I stood on the brim, shocked at an unex- 

 pected sight. A horde of those Huns of the 

 jungle, army ants, had made their drive directly 



211 



