294 THE CO]\IPLETE SPORTSMAN 



Whenever Parliament was sitting it was my 

 uncle's pleasant custom to spend every week- 

 end at Ooseford Hall, his country seat in Surrey, 

 returning to London every Monday afternoon by 

 the 2.15 train to Waterloo. On the fatal day 

 to which I have already alluded Sir Theodore 

 was tempted by the unusual clemency of the 

 weather to counter-order the motor that habitu- 

 ally conveyed him to the station, and made 

 his way thither on foot. Shortly before two 

 o'clock he arrived in sight of Ooseford Junction, 

 and, feeling somewhat exhausted by his un- 

 accustomed exertions, sat down for a few 

 moments on a convenient hillock by the road- 

 side, until the ringing of the station bell an- 

 nounced the approach of the train. 



Half an hour later, as he was being whirled 

 along in a first-class compartment, idly counting 

 the advertisement boards that so greatly en- 

 hance the charm of our rural scenery, he became 

 subtly conscious of a tickling sensation in the 

 region of his spine. He shifted uneasily in his 

 seat, but still the tickling continued, and, on 

 looking down to ascertain the cause of this 

 phenomenon. Sir Theodore was amazed to 

 observe that his ankles were covered with black 

 ants, several of which were already busy 

 exploring other parts of his body. 



He realized at once that the roadside mound 



