diameter. Down in the very heart of the cluster, hardly to be
discerned, was a tiny red-tipped bud, destined to shoot up, later in the
season, into a sturdy flower-stalk.

[Illustration: "AT THIS MOMENT A PASSING SHRIKE SWOOPED DOWN."]

Against the fresh, warm green of the sunlit world surrounding it, the
sarracenia's peculiar colouring stood out conspicuously, its streaks
and splashes of red having the effect of blossoms. This effect, at a
season when bright-hued blooms were scarce, made the plant very
attractive to any insects that chanced within view of it. There was
nearly always some flutterer or hummer poising above it, or touching it
eagerly to dart away again in disappointment. But every once in awhile
some little wasp, or fly, or shining-winged beetle, or gauzy ichneumon,
would alight on the alluring lip, pause, and peer down into the pitcher.
As a rule the small investigator would venture farther and farther, till
it disappeared. Then it never came out again.

On a leaf of a huckleberry bush, overhanging the pitcher-plant, a little
black ant was running about with the nimble curiosity of her kind. An
orange and black butterfly, fluttering lazily in the sun, came close
beside the leaf. At this moment a passing shrike swooped down and caught
the butterfly in his beak. One of his long wings, chancing to strike the
leaf, sent it whirling from its stem; and the ant fell directly upon one
of the pitchers below.

It was far down upon the red, shining lip of the pitcher that she fell;
and there she clung resolutely, her feet sinking into a sort of fur of
smooth, whitish hairs. When she had quite recovered her equanimity she
started to explore her new surroundings; and, because that was the
easiest way to go, she went in the direction toward which the hairs all
pointed. In a moment, therefore, she found herself just on the edge of
the precipitous slope from the lip to the throat of the pitcher. Here,
finding the slope strangely slippery, she thought it best to stop and
retrace her steps. But when she attempted this she found it impossible.
The little, innocent-looking hairs all pressed against her, thrusting
her downward. The more she struggled, the more energetically and
elastically they pushed back at her; till all at once she was forced
over the round, smooth edge, and fell.

To her terrified amazement, it was water she fell into. The pitcher was
about half full of the chilly fluid. In her kickings and twisting