never a recoil to interrupt the feast and to take breath awhile.
The vivacious animal always goes forward, chewing, swallowing,
digesting, until the caterpillar's skin is emptied of its
contents. Once seated at table, it does not budge as long as the
victuals last. To tease it with a straw is not always enough to
induce it to withdraw its head outside the wound; I have to use
violence. When removed by force and then left to its own devices,
the creature hesitates for a long time, stretches itself and
mouths around, without trying to open a passage through a new
wound. It needs the attacking point that has just been abandoned.
If it finds the spot, it makes its way in and resumes the work of
eating; but its future is jeopardized from this time forward, for
the game, now perhaps tackled at inopportune points, is liable to
go bad.

With the Anthrax' grub, there is none of this mangling, none of
this persistent clinging to the entrance wound. I have but to
tease it with the tip of a hair pencil and forthwith it retires;
and the lens reveals no wound at the abandoned spot, no such
effusion of blood as there would be if the skin were perforated.
When its sense of security is restored, the grub once more applies
its pimple head to the fostering larva, at any point, no matter
where; and, so long as my curiosity does not prevent it, keeps
itself fixed there, without the least effort, or the least
perceptible movement that could account for the adhesion. If I
repeat the touch with the pencil, I see the same sudden retreat
and, soon after, the same contact just as readily renewed.

This facility for gripping, quitting and regripping, now here, now
there and always without a wound, the part of the victim whence