A large black ant is
tugging and pulling at an orange-bud, and really making an effort to
carry it away with him. It is once and a half as long as he, fully
twice as wide, and I cannot compute how much heavier, but its size and
weight are very little regarded. He drags it vigorously over Alpine
heights and through valley deeps, but evidently finds the task
arduous, for he stops to rest now and then. I want to help him, but
cannot be sure of his destination, and fear besides that my clumsy
assistance would be misinterpreted.
Ah, how unfortunate! ant and orange-bud have fallen together into
the depths of a Colorado canon which yawns in the path. The ant soon
reappears, but clearly feels it impossible to drag the bud up such a
precipice, and runs away on some other quest. What did he want with
that bud, I wonder? was it for food, or bric-a-brac, or a plaything
for the babies? Never mind,--I shall never know, and I prepare to read
again. But what's this? Here is my ant returning, and accompanied by
some friends.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166