44 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



On the same leaf were casually blown specks 

 of dust, larger than the quartette of eggs. To 

 the plant the cluster weighed nothing, meant 

 nothing more than the dust. Yet a moment be- 

 fore they contained the latent power of great 

 harm to the future growth of the weed four 

 lusty caterpillars would work from leaf to leaf 

 with a rapidity and destructiveness which might, 

 even at the last, have sapped the maturing seeds. 

 Now, on a smaller scale, but still within the realm 

 of insect life, all was changed the plant was safe 

 once more and no caterpillars would emerge. 

 For the wasp went from sphere to sphere and 

 inoculated every one with the promise of its kind. 

 The plant bent slightly in a breath of wind, and 

 knew nothing; the butterfly was far away to my 

 left, deep-drinking in a cluster of yellow cassia; 

 the wasp had already forgotten its achievement, 

 and I alone an outsider, an interloper ob- 

 served, correlated, realized, appreciated, and at 

 the last remained as completely ignorant as the 

 actors themselves of the real driving force, of the 

 certain beginning, of the inevitable end. Only a 

 momentary cross-section was vouchsafed, and a 

 wonder and a desire to know fanned a little hot- 

 ter. 



