the next
caste, _Attaphila_ will, all unconsciously, bear a name.

Attaphilas have staked their whole gamble of existence on the
continued possibility of guest-ship with the Attas. Although they
lived near the fungus gardens they did not feed upon them, but
gathered secretions from the armored skin of the giant soldiers, who
apparently did not object, and showed no hostility to their diminutive
masseurs. A summer boarder may be quite at home on a farm, and safe
from all ordinary dangers, but he must keep out of the way of scythes
and sickles if he chooses to haunt the hay-fields. And so Attaphila,
snug and safe, deep in the heart of the nest, had to keep on the qui
vive when the ant harvesters came to glean in the fungus gardens.
Snip, snip, snip, on all sides in the musty darkness, the keen
mandibles sheared the edible heads, and though the little Attaphilas
dodged and ran, yet most of them, in course of time, lost part of an
antenna or even a whole one.

Thus the Little Friend of the Leaf-cutters lives easily through his
term of weeks or months, or perhaps even a year, and has nothing to
fear for food or mate, or from enemies. But Attaphilas cannot all
live in a single nest, and we realize that there must come a crisis,
when they pass out into a strange world of terrible light and
multitudes of foes. For these pampered, degenerate roaches to find
another Atta nest unaided, would be inconceivable. In the big nest
which I excavated I observed them on the back and heads not only of
the large soldiers, but also of the queens which swarmed in one
portion of the galleries; and indeed, of twelve queens, seven had
roaches clinging to them. This has been noted also of a Brazilian
species, and we suddenly realize what splendid sports these humble
insects are. They resolutely prepare for their gamble--_l'aventure
magnifique_--the slenderest fighting chance, and we are almost
inclined to forget the irresponsible implacability of instinct, and
cheer the little fellows for lining up on this forlorn hope. When the
time comes, the queens leave, and are off up into the unheard-of sky,
as if an earthworm should soar with eagle's feathers; past the
gauntlet of voracious flycatchers and hawks, to the millionth chance
of meeting an acceptable male of the same species. After the mating,
comes the solitary search for a suitable site, and only when the
pitifully unfair gamble has been won by a single fortunate queen,
does the Attaphila cl