which they passed at first; and this is to them a matter of such
imperative necessity that no additional fatigue nor even the gravest
danger can make them alter the track.

Let us suppose that they have crossed a thick heap of dead leaves,
representing to them a path beset with yawning gulfs, where every
moment some one falls, where many are exhausted as they struggle out
of the hollows and reach the heights by means of swaying bridges,
emerging at last from the labyrinth of lanes. No matter: on their
return, they will not fail, though weighed down with their burden,
once more to struggle through that weary maze. To avoid all this
fatigue, they would have but to swerve slightly from the original
path, for the good, smooth road is there, hardly a step away. This
little deviation never occurs to them.

I came upon them one day when they were on one of their raids. They
were marching along the inner edge of the stone-work of the garden-
pond, where I have replaced the old batrachians by a colony of Gold-
fish. The wind was blowing very hard from the north and, taking the
column in flank, sent whole rows of the Ants flying into the water.
The fish hurried up; they watched the performance and gobbled up the
drowning insects. It was a difficult bit; and the column was decimated
before it had passed. I expected to see the return journey made by
another road, which would wind round and avoid the fatal cliff. Not at
all. The nymph-laden band resumed the parlous path and the Goldfish
received a double windfall: the Ants and their prizes. Rather than
alter its track, the column was decimated a second time.

It is not easy to find the way home again after a distant expedition,
during which there have been various sorties, nearly always by