212 JUNGLE PEACE 



across the glade, and scores of fleeing insects 

 and other creatures had fallen headlong into this 

 deep pit. From my man's height it was a dread- 

 ful encounter, but squatting near the edge it 

 became even more terrible ; and when I flattened 

 myself on the sand and began to distinguish 

 individuals and perceive the details from an ant's 

 point of view, I realized the full horror and 

 irresistibility of an assault by these ants. 



One is not strongly affected by the dying 

 struggles of a single grasshopper captured by 

 a cuckoo or flycatcher. An individual roach 

 being torn to pieces moves one but shghtly. A 

 batrachian, however, has more claim on our 

 emotions, and my sympathy went out to a 

 small, sandy-white frog who was making a brave 

 fight for his life. The pit was alive with a host 

 of the army ants, and wherever the little frog 

 hopped, some soldier or heavy- jawed worker 

 soon found him and sank jaws into his soft 

 skin. With frantic scratching the frog would 

 brush it off and leap again, only to be again 

 attacked. The most horrible thing about these 

 ants is their leaping ability. The hop of a bird 

 or the jump of a toad when going about their 

 usual business of life, if we think of it at all, is 



