‘290 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
chaps construct a round, sub-leaf carton-home, as 
large as a golf ball, which carries out all the re- 
quirements of counter shading and of ruptive 
markings. The flattened, shadowed under sur- 
face was white, and most of the sloping walls 
dark brown, down which extended eight white 
lines, following the veins of the leaf overhead. 
The side close to the stem of the leaf, and conse- 
quently always in deep shadow, was pure white. 
The eaves catching high lights were black. All 
this marvelous merging with leaf tones went for 
naught when once an advance Eciton scout lo- 
cated the nest. 
As the deadly mob approached, the wasplets 
themselves seemed to realize the futility of offer- 
ing battle, and the entire colony of forty-four 
gathered in a forlorn group on a neighboring 
leaf, while their little castle was rifled—larve 
and pupe torn from their cells and rushed down 
the stems to the chaos which was raging in Eci- 
ton’s own home. The wasps could guard against 
optical discovery, but the blind Ecitons had 
senses which transcended vision, if not even scent. 
Late that night, our lanterns showed the rem- 
nants of the Eciton army wandering aimlessly 
about, making near approach impossible, but ap- 
