294 The Htmting IVasps 



station themselves on the sand and remain per- 

 fectly still, all gazing at the burrow, of which 

 they well know the entrance, carefully hidden 

 though it be. Their dull-brown colour, their 

 great blood-red eyes, their indefatigable patience 

 have often suggested to me a picture of brigands, 

 clad in dark frieze, with a red handkerchief round 

 their heads, waiting in ambush for the moment 

 to strike a felon blow. The Wasp arrives carry- 

 ing her prey. If nothing of an alarming nature 

 troubled her, she would then and there alight 

 at her door. But she hovers at a certain height, 

 comes down slowly and circumspectly, hesitates ; 

 and a plainti\'c whimpering, resulting from a 

 special vibration of her wings, expresses her 

 fears. She has seen the malefactors therefore. 

 They too have seen the Bembex : they follow 

 her with their eyes, as the movement of their 

 red heads shows ; every gaze is turned towards 

 the coveted booty. Now come the marches and 

 countermarches of craft striving to outwit 

 prudence. 



The Bembex comes straight down, with an 

 imperceptible flight, as though letting herself 

 drop inertly, buoyed up by the parachute of 

 her wings. She is now hovering a hand's 

 breadth above the ground. This is the moment. 

 The Midges take flight and all make for the rear 

 of the Wasp ; they hover in her wake, some 



