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- 
ve. 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! 
