THE ARMY ANTS’ HOME TOWN 65 
on their chemical errands. And then this whole 
theory, this most vivid simile, is quite upset by 
the sights that I watch in the suburbs of this ant 
home! 
The columns were most excellent barometers, 
and their reaction to passing showers was invari- 
able. The clay surface held water, and after 
each downfall the pools would be higher, and the 
contour of the little region altered. At the first 
few drops, all the ants would hasten, the throb- 
bing corpuscles speeding up. Then, as the rain 
came down heavier, the column melted away, 
those near each end hurrying to shelter and those 
in the center’ crawling beneath fallen leaves and 
bits of clod and sticks. A moment before, hun- 
dreds of ants were trudging around a tiny pool, 
the water lined with ant handrails, and in shallow 
places, veritable formicine pontoons,—large ants 
which stood up to their bodies in water, with the 
booty-laden host passing over them. Now, all 
had vanished, leaving only a bare expanse of 
splashing drops and wet clay. The sun broke 
through and the residue rain tinkled from the 
bamboos. 
As gradually as the growth of the rainbow 
above the jungle, the lines reformed themselves. 
