278 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



The side of the hill is strewn with stones as thickly 

 as the orchard with apples. As we lie there on one 

 elbow to admire the view and to meditate on many 

 things, the other hand idly picks a stone from its bed 

 in the turf. There are hundreds of black ants in a 

 series of grooves they have constructed beneath it. 

 Heaps of cocoons that were there when the light 

 broke in are melting like sugar in water as the nurses 

 carry them down to a lower room. A flying ant tries 

 to take the opportunity to elope, but a worker 

 clutches her and drags her back. The next stone, 

 by a coincidence, has red ants, and under another not 

 far away are the sickly, puny yellow ones that, in 

 spite of their small size and poor spirit, manage to 

 build greater mounds than any of the earth-building 

 ants. Here we are, like Asmodeus, surrounded by a 

 perfect city of roofs, each one of which we are at 

 liberty to lift for the inspection of the inhabitants 

 beneath. Here is one so large and flat that it could 

 cover a trap-door leading to Ali Baba's cave. That 

 or some other treasure is beneath it, and with difficulty 

 we prise it up to find merely a wire-worm of a species 

 we have been seeking for years. It is one of the best 

 of places for hunting centipedes and millipedes. The 

 coleopterist, too, can often find a rare thing under the 

 right stone. 



Once we found a mole's nest with young moles in 

 it under a baulk of timber. The place was unusual, 

 but so handy a roof often covers the nest of a field- 

 mouse. You may, in such a situation, suddenly 

 expose an entire wasps' nest, tearing ofT the top 

 paper and bringing the whole population about your 

 ears. So there is a spice of adventure connected 



