THE ARMY ANTS' HOME TOWN 67 



watching every passer-by with interest, straining 

 with the bearers of the heavy loads, and breath- 

 ing more easily when the last obstacle was over- 

 come and home attained. For a period I plucked 

 out every bit of good-sized booty and found that 

 almost all were portions of scorpions from far- 

 distant dead logs in the jungle, creatures whose 

 strength and poisonous stings availed nothing 

 against the attacks of these fierce ants. The 

 loads were adjusted equably, the larger pieces 

 carried by the big, white-headed workers, while 

 the smaller ants transported small eggs and lar- 

 vse. Often, when a great mandibled soldier had 

 hold of some insect, he would have five or six tiny 

 workers surrounding him, each grasping any pro- 

 jecting part of the loot, as if they did not trust 

 him in this menial capacity, as an anxious 

 mother would watch with doubtful confidence a 

 big policeman wheeling her baby across a 

 crowded street. These workers were often dimin- 

 utive Marcelines, hindering rather than aiding 

 in the progress. But in every phase of activity 

 of these ants there was not an ounce of inten- 

 tionally lost power, or a moment of time wilfully 

 gone to waste. What a commentary on Bol- 

 shevism! 



