The ant retreated hurriedly, but all that night she sat at the shaft's mouth, and barred the way below with her own body.
Next day the weather mended—a blaze of sun from an unclouded sky, and, on the sand-cliff, ecstasy of life.
Hard work in store for Spinipes! Three hours she spent in raising a fresh tower, five hours in reprovisioning her burrow. But she no longer worked alone. For others of her race had found the cliff, and other towers, twin to her own, were rising from the sand-ledge. Between them pygmy digger wasps dug shafts to match their bodies, and trident-tailed ichneumons sailed about them, and sneaking, prying, jewel flies, here, there, and everywhere on mischief bent.
She caught her old acquaintance, caught her in the act, and dragged her out, and stung her as was promised.
"I looked inside, that's all—that's really all," whimpered the culprit as she clutched the rim.
"Take that—and that—and that," said Spinipes, and drove her sharp sting home. But jewel flies are toughened folk, and this one, flung aside at last, was in full flight, and merry as a grig, within a minute of her punishment.
Daily the work grew harder. It took more time to find the grubs, since other wasps were hunting, and soon the increasing bulk of them taxed her full powers of flight. Once, as she neared the ledge, she dropped her burden. It lay where it had fallen till it died, for neither she nor other of her kind had wit to forge, or mend, a link in instincts broken chain. Once she found strange additions to her store. A human hand had robbed a neighbouring shaft and, with well-meant intention, sought to help her. Vain fancy! Here the self-same chain (to hunt—to catch—to bring—to store) was, end for end, reversed. The alien grubs were, one by one, dragged forth, and, one by one, flung headlong.
SHE SANK FIVE OTHER CURVING SHAFTS AND BUILT FIVE TOWERS TO GUARD THEM