n through, when I was thankful that Attas could only
bite and not sting as well. At such a time as this, the greatest
difference is apparent between these and the Eciton army ants. The
Eciton soldier with his long, curved scimitars and his swift, nervous
movements, was to one of these great insects as a fighting d'Artagnan
would be to an armored tank. The results were much the same
however,--perfect efficiency.

I now dug swiftly and crashed with pick down through three feet of
soil. The great entrance arteries of the nest branched and bifurcated,
separated and anastomosed, while here and there were chambers varying
in size from a cocoanut to a football. These were filled with what
looked like soft grayish sponge covered with whitish mold, and these
somber affairs were the _raison d'etre_ for all the leaf-cutting, the
trails, the struggles through jungles, the constant battling against
wind and rain and sun.

But the labors of the Attas are only renewed when a worker disappears
down a hole with his hard-earned bit of leaf. He drops it and goes on
his way. We do not know what this way is, but my guess is that he
turns around and goes after another leaf. Whatever the nests of Attas
possess, they are without recreation rooms. These sluggard-instructors
do not know enough to take a vacation; their faces are fashioned for
biting, but not for laughing or yawning. I once dabbed fifteen Mediums
with a touch of white paint as they approached the nest, and within
five minutes thirteen of them had emerged and started on the back
track again.

The leaf is taken in charge by another Medium, hosts of whom are
everywhere. Once after a spadeful, I placed my eye as close as
possible to a small heap of green leaves, and around one oblong bit
were five Mediums, each with a considerable amount of chewed and
mumbled tissue in front of him. This is the only time I have ever
succeeded in finding these ants actually at this work. The leaves are
chewed thoroughly and built up into the sponge gardens, being used
neither for thatch nor for food, but as fertilizer. And not for any
strange subterranean berry or kernel or fruit, but for a fungus or
mushroom. The spores sprout and proliferate rapidly, the gray mycelia
covering the garden, and at the end of each thread is a little knobbed
body filled with liquid. This forms the sole food of the ants in the
nest, but a drop of honey placed by a busy trail will draw a circle of
workers at any time--