298 
NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 
ten burrows, and as you may well imagine, every 
moment must be made to count, for September 
weather cannot be relied upon; often there are 
cold, damp and rainy days when excavating is 
entirely out of the question. 
“ All told, no wasp is busier than Mrs. Yellow- 
wings, nor is there one that can vie with her skill 
on the hunt. Her prey is the staunch and power¬ 
ful cricket, whose dreadful jaws are capable of 
tearing out the wasp’s vitals in short order, if 
they can get at her. Its legs, too, are murderous 
clubs, fitted with a double row of cruel spikes, and 
it is most skillful in using them, now in making 
nimble, evading leaps, and again in administering 
wicked kicks. Yet the slender little wasp always 
prevails. Moreover, the cricket knows that she 
will,—what were those lines you were quoting 
yesterday, Max? 
“ If you think you are beaten, you are, 
If you think you dare not, you don’t. 
If 3 r ou’d like to win, but think you can’t 
It’s almost a ‘ cinch ’ that you won’t. 
“ Well, that’s just the way it is with the 
cricket: notwithstanding its powerful strength, 
as soon as a wasp appears on the scene it takes to 
its heels in a headlong cowardly rush, and the 
little wasp, entirely sure of herself, pursues re¬ 
lentlessly. At the last moment, the cricket re- 
