SEQUELS 293 



side, over ants, leaves, debris, impatient only at 

 the slowness of the army. 



All the afternoon the insane circle revolved; 

 at midnight the hosts were still moving, the sec- 

 ond morning many had weakened and dropped 

 their burdens, and the general pace had very ap- 

 preciably slackened. But still the blind grip of 

 instinct held them. On, on, on they must go! 

 Always before in their nomadic life there had 

 been a goal a sanctuary of hollow tree, snug 

 heart of bamboos surely this terrible grind must 

 end somehow. In this crisis, even the Spirit of 

 the Army was helpless. Along the normal paths 

 of Eciton life he could inspire endless enthu- 

 siasm, illimitable energy, but here his material 

 units were bound upon the wheel of their perfec- 

 tion of instinct. Through sun and cloud, day 

 and night, hour after hour there was found no 

 Eciton with individual initiative enough to turn 

 aside an ant's breadth from the circle which he 

 had traversed perhaps fifteen times: the masters 

 of the jungle had become their own mental prey. 



Fewer and fewer now came along the well 

 worn path; burdens littered the line of march, 

 like the arms and accoutrements thrown down by 

 a retreating army. At last a scanty single line 



