TILLERS OF THE SOIL. 
93 
familiar pie crusts which white ants build over themselves 
before they dare begin to work, and with eager haste they 
brought the news to the main column. The effect was 
wonderful. The word ran along the ranks, every ant 
doubled its pace, and the martial column became like a 
crowd rushing to the scene of a great fire in the city. 
These ants, under excitement, are very human. “ The 
rabblement shout and clap their chapped hands, and 
throw up their sweaty nightcaps ” just as if they were in 
Hyde Park. I have not seen the nightcaps, but I have 
often heard the shout. Well, when they reached the 
earthworks of the termites, they formed in a dense 
squadron and waited in silence till darkness set in. 
Whether they want strength or intelligence to break 
through the earthy crust I cannot say, but as the white 
ants cannot extend their work without making a break 
at some point in their defences, their enemies may have 
been waiting for this opportunity to rush in. All I know 
is that at sunrise, next morning, the slain were literally 
lying heaps upon heaps, and the soldiery were hurrying 
to and fro to get them all gathered in before the sun 
should get too hot for outdoor work. It was a ghastly 
spectacle, and I gloated over it ! 
