206 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



Thursday, July 13. At seven o'clock this 

 morning I started back to camp on foot, taking 

 as 1 always like to do the hypotenuse or short- 

 est cut. This led me across corn-fields, clover- 

 fields, stubble-fields and woodland pastures. At 

 the foot of a slope in one of the latter I arrived 

 just in time to witness a tragedy of nature and 

 there as a spectator I spent half an hour or 

 more. Three actors took part therein and the 

 scene was laid about the base of a great white 

 oak, the lobes of whose roots above ground had 

 large cavernous places between them. Across 

 one of these spaces a medium sized gray spider 

 had stretched a tightly woven web and here was 

 the theater and the stage. 



As I stepped alongside the tree I happened to 

 catch sight of the villain in the tragedy a slen- 

 der-bodied black wasp, with broad black wings 

 and yellow antennae. It was rushing back and 

 forth in an excited manner across the upper sur- 

 face of the close woven web. Presently it dodged 

 beneath it and out came the spider and rushed 

 across the top of the web with the wasp in close 

 pursuit. The spider dived through a hole in the 

 web but the wasp ran to the far edge and again 

 beneath it. Out on top once more came the 

 owner and after her the wasp. Back and forth, 

 here and there, in and out of corners, over and 

 under the surface they went for minutes, one 

 fleeing for life, the other pursuing for food for 



