"It must take the ants a long while to build such nests as that," remarked Harry.
"I guesses so," said Willie. "I's seen 'em, many and many a time, running up with their wee little bits of dirt, and I knows they'd jess be ever and ever so long."
"But you do not stop to think what can be done by keeping at it," said Uncle Ben. "They are the very hardest of hard workers. They never seem to tire or lie down to rest, so that it is astonishing what progress they make. It is said that they will finish a complete story to their nest, with all its rooms, galleries, vaulted roofs, and partitions, in seven or eight hours. They use wet clay in the work, and put it together very rapidly."
"I suppose these big nests are built just like the little ones we have here," said Harry, with a questioning look.
"Yes, on much the same principle. In fact, our little mason ants are very expert builders. Some of them only build while it is raining, or while the ground continues wet. If it gets so dry that the earth will not stick together, they pull down their unfinished walls, and heap the earth over the finished portions. The ash-colored mason is very curious in his ways. He begins by bringing a quantity of earth, which he heaps on the roof of his old home. Then he goes to work upon this, excavating galleries, just as a laborer will dig ditches across a field. Finally he roofs over these galleries. But if he should begin a roof before the walls are high enough, he will carefully take it down, and build the walls higher before proceeding with his roof."
"Why, what smart little chaps they are! They must think, anyhow. Don't you believe so, Uncle Ben?"
"One would fancy so, at any rate. They may not be able to think like philosophers, but they certainly think like builders. I could give you other evidences of it. If you saw them carefully closing the doors of their nests at night or in wet weather, and opening them again in the morning, and carrying their young out-of-doors to enjoy the sun on bright days, and a dozen other shrewd habits, you might well imagine they thought it all out. Among the strangest of these ant-philosophers are the driver ants of West Africa, a species which can not endure the hot suns of that region. If they are caught by the fierce rays of the sun when out travelling, they at once build themselves a covered archway of clay—a long tunnel whose sides and roof are cemented by some gummy material from their own bodies. Under this they travel safe from the sun. It is said of the same ants that when they are obliged to cross a stream in their journeys, they will ascend a tree, and run out on a low limb that hangs over the opposite side. From this they drop a line of ants to the earth, each clinging firmly to the one above it. Over this living line the whole army passes. Other travellers relate that if they can not cross the stream in this way, they will drop a line of ants to the water, from which a horizontal line, supported on the water, runs to the other side; forming a living bridge, over which the whole army marches. For my part, I hardly know what to think of these stories, since the driver ants are entirely blind."
"I guesses that's 'nough," said Willie. "Let's go play, Harry. Ants can't do that, anyway. They doesn't do nuffin but work all the time."
"Indeed you are very much mistaken, my young friend," replied his uncle. "They are just as fond of play as you are. They will wrestle with one another, and ride on each other's backs, as if it were the greatest fun in the world. And they have been seen practicing gymnastic sports, climbing, hanging down by one leg, and letting themselves fall from a distance, as if they enjoyed it hugely. In fact, they are up to almost as many pranks and capers as young boys. I doubt, however, if they get into mischief as often. But go on; I won't detain you any longer from your play."
"Maybe you's glad 'nough to get rid of us," said Willie, slyly, as he snatched Harry's cap and ran away with it. In an instant the ants were forgotten, and there was a hot chase across the grassy meadow.