THE TRAVELLERS

Too Long; Didn't Read

I have told in the last chapter how, on the ridges of Mont Ventoux, at a height of nearly 6000 feet, I had one of those entomological windfalls which would be rich in results if they occurred often enough to serve the purpose of continuous study. Unfortunately, mine was a solitary instance and I despair of ever repeating it. I can therefore only base conjectures on it, in the hope that future observers will replace my surmises with certainties. Under the shelter of a broad, flat stone I discovered some hundreds of Ammophilæ (A. hirsuta), heaped one on top of the other almost as closely as the Bees in a swarm. As soon as I lifted the stone, all this little hairy world began to run about, without making any attempt to fly away. I shifted the mass by handfuls: not one of the Wasps looked as though she wished to desert the rest. They seemed indissolubly united by common interests; none of them would go unless all went. I examined with every possible care the flat stone that sheltered them, as well as the ground underneath and just around it, and discovered not a thing to tell me the cause of this strange assemblage. Having nothing better left to do, I tried to count them; and it was then that the clouds came and put an end to my observations and plunged us into that darkness of which I have described the anxious consequences. At the first drops of rain, before leaving the spot, I hastened to put back the stone and replace the Ammophilæ in their shelter. I give myself a good mark, which I hope that the reader will confirm, for having taken the precaution not to leave the poor insects whom my curiosity had disturbed at the mercy of the downpour.