86 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
to gather this little dust, as if their very lives 
depended upon it. 
With my hand-lens focused just beyond man- 
dible reach of the biggest soldier, I leaned for- 
ward from my insulated chair, hovering like a 
great astral eye looking down at this marvelously 
important business of little lives. Here were 
thousands of army ants, not killing, not carrying 
booty, nor even suspended quiescent as organic 
molecules in the structure of the home, yet in 
feverish activity equaled only by battle, making 
ready for the great change of their foster off- 
spring. I watched the very first thread of silk 
drawn between the larva and the outside world, 
and in an incredibly short time the cocoon was 
outlined in a tissue-thin, transparent aura, within 
which the tenant could be seen skilfully weaving 
its own shroud. 
When first brought from the nest, the larve 
lay quite straight and still; but almost at once 
they bent far over in the spinning position. Then 
some officious worker would come along, and 
the unfortunate larva would be snatched up, car- 
ried off, and jammed down in some neighboring 
empty space, like a bolt of cloth rearranged upon 
a shelf. Then another ant would approach, ap- 
