268 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
of each strove to fulfil their destiny, and for a 
little time the rocks and I wondered at it to- 
gether. 
In this little arena, floored with sand, dotted 
with rushes and balconied with boulders, many 
hundreds of butterflies were gathered. There 
were five species, all of the genius Catopsilia, but 
only three were easily distinguishable in life, the 
smaller, lemon yellow statira, and the larger, 
orange argente and philea. There was also 
eubele, the migrant, keeping rather to itself. 
I took some pictures, then crept closer; more 
pictures and a nearer approach. Then suddenly 
all rose, and I felt as if I had shattered a won- 
derful painting. But the sand was a lodestone 
and drew them down. I slipped within a yard, 
-squatted, and mentally became one of them. Si- 
lently, by dozens and scores, they flew around me, 
and soon they eclipsed the sand. They were so 
closely packed that their outstretched legs 
touched. There were two large patches, and a 
smaller area outlined by no boundary that I 
could detect. Yet when these were occupied the 
last comers alighted on top of the wings of their 
comrades, who resented neither the disturbance 
nor the weight. Two layers of butterflies 
