XXXIX 



SOLDIER, SOLDIER! 



"Where there's so much smoke there's sure 

 to be some fire," is a very ancient adage, and 

 has been known to serve as valuable circumstantial 

 evidence. Fire without smoke would be even 

 more dangerous than with it, for the smoke gives 

 the warning. No wonder war promoters sought 

 diligently until they discovered smokeless powder 

 to make their trade more iniquitous than before. 

 Smoke without fire seems unnecessary, a warning 

 without the accompanying danger. But there are 

 many things in heaven and earth as yet unheard 

 of by those who lead lives far from the haunts of 

 the water brooks. There may be occasions when 

 a warning is sufficient. It was certainly so with 

 me when I first encountered in his stony citadel 

 the bombardier beetle. His dwelling place was 

 not made to order; he simply occupied a crevice 

 behind one of the many stones which scatter the 

 bed of Fall Brook. Long since the stream itself 

 had retreated to a narrow channel in the middle 

 of its bed, leaving a broad space on either side 

 paved with cleanly washed limestone. Where the 

 bank rose steep to the roots of the overhanging 

 trees lay a tumbled mass of water -worn stones, 

 some too large to be lifted, others no bigger than 

 my fist. I had just lifted one about the size of a 



(220) 



