another form, the tracks of
little birds in the snow which used to arouse a delightful flutter in
my youthful days. What do these imprints mean?

I follow them, a hunter on the trail of a new species. At the end of
each track, by digging to no great depth, I unearth a magnificent
Carabus, whose very name is almost unknown to me. It is the Giant
Scarites (_S. gigas_, FAB.).

I make him walk on the sand. He exactly reproduces the tracks which
put me on the alert. It was certainly he who, questing for game in the
night, marked the trail with his feet. He returned to his lair before
daylight; and now not a single Beetle is to be seen in the open.

Another characteristic thrusts itself upon my notice. If I shake him
for a moment and then place him on the ground upon his back, he
remains a long time without stirring. No other insect has yet
displayed such persistent immobility, though I confess that my
investigations in this respect have been only superficial. The detail
is so thoroughly engraved on my memory that, forty years later, when I
want to experiment on the insects which are experts in the art of
simulating death, I at once think of the Scarites.

A friend sends me a dozen from Cette, from the very beach on which I
once passed a delightful morning in the company of this skilful mimic
of the dead. They reach me in perfect condition, mixed up in the same
package with some Pimeliae (_P. bipunctata_, FAB.), their compatriots
in the sands beside the sea. Of these last, a pitiable crew, many have
been disembowelled, absolutely emptied; others have merely stumps
instead of legs; a few, but only a few, are unwounded.

It was what one might have expected of these Carabidae, lawless
hunters one and all. Tragic events took place in the box during the
journey from Cette to Serignan. The Scarites gormandized riotously on
the peaceable Pimeliae.

Their tracks, which I followed long ago on the actual spot, bore
evidence to their nocturnal rounds, apparently in search of their
prey, the pot-bellied Pimelia, whose sole defence consists of a strong
armour of welded wing-cases.[4] But what can such a cuirass avail
against the bandit's ruthless pincers?

[Footnote 4: The Pimelia is a wingless Beetle.--_Translator's Note_.]

He is indeed a mighty hunter, this Nimrod of the sea-shore. All black
and glossy, like a jet bugle, his body is divided by a very narrow
groove at the waist. His weapon of offence consists of a pair of
cla