190 
NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 
or antennae extending backward above and be¬ 
yond its body. It is strong in flight and is as 
much at home in the tree tops searching for sleep¬ 
ing cicadas as it is on the ground to which the 
stragglers usually tumble when the longhorn 
drives home her cruel thrust. The sudden, sharp 
insect wail which we sometimes hear in the dead 
of night is the poor cicada's shriek of fright and 
agony, which marks the longhorn’s swift assault. 
“ The females of both the longhorns and the 
green meadow grasshoppers bear long curved 
egg-laying tools, sharp as pin darts. With these 
convenient ovipositors, they are able to make a 
tiny slit at the base of large grass blades and in¬ 
sert their eggs. Here in these snug little hatch¬ 
eries the treasures are as safe as can be. No 
bright eye can hope to spy them; even bossy, if 
she passes that way, never bites low enough to 
disturb them. All whiter they are sheltered by 
the grassy clump, and in spring the warm kiss 
of the sun presently brings out the baby long¬ 
horns. Thanks to the niceties of Mother Na¬ 
ture’s time-table, they arrive just in time to fur¬ 
nish dainty breakfasts for the hosts of little quail 
babies that are hatching all about. A good many, 
however, manage to escape the bright little eyes 
in the fluffy balls of down, and the race of long¬ 
horns and meadow grasshoppers is never in any 
danger of being exterminated. 
