66 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
Scouts crept from the jungle-edge at one side, 
and from the post at my end, and felt their way, 
fan-wise, over the rain-scoured surface; for the 
odor, which was both sight and sound to these 
ants, had been washed away—a more serious han- 
dicap than mere change in contour. Swiftly the 
wandering individuals found their bearings 
again. There was deep water where dry land 
had been, but, as if by long-planned study of the 
work of sappers and engineers, new pontoon 
bridges were thrown across, washouts filled in, 
new cliffs explored, and easy grades established ; 
and by the time the bamboos ceased their own 
private after-shower, the columns were again 
running smoothly, battalions of eager light in- 
fantry hastening out to battle, and equal hosts 
of loot-laden warriors hurrying toward the home 
nest. Four minutes was the average time taken 
to reform a column across the ten feet of open 
clay, with all the road-making and engineering 
feats which I have mentioned, on the part of ants 
who had never been over this new route before. 
Leaning forward within a few inches of the 
post, I lost all sense of proportion, forgot my 
awkward human size, and with a new perspec- 
tive became an equal of the ants, looking on, 
