“No; it uses this tool simply for placing its eggs in the ground where they are to hatch. It is a sort of conveyor for the eggs, and is called a terebra. The saw, the blade, the cutlass, and other like implements that terminate the body of various insects have also this name. They serve to deposit the eggs in suitable places where the larvæ can find food. But this implement, dangerous though it looks, never stings when the insect is molested; it is not a defensive weapon. Only the honey-bee, the bumblebee, the wasp, and some others have for their defense a sting that inflicts a painful wound.” “So painful,” Emile interrupted, “that I still remember how once, when I wanted to see what was going on in the beehive, I was stung by the bees.” “The wasp’s sting is much worse,” remarked Louis. “When I was gathering the grapes last year I took hold of a bunch where there were some wasps, and my hand was swollen all day and pained me so I should have cried if there had been nobody around.” “How wonderful that such small creatures really hurt like that!” Jules exclaimed. “I should like to know why.” “I will tell you. The sting of these insects is a slender lancet, hard and sharp-pointed, a kind of dagger finer than the finest needle. It is situated at the end of the abdomen. In repose it is not seen, being concealed in a sort of scabbard let into the creature’s body; but in time of danger it comes out of this scabbard. Now, it is not exactly the wound made by the sting that causes the smarting pain you know so well. This wound is so slight, so subtle, that we cannot see it, and we should hardly feel it if it were made by a needle or a thorn as fine as the sting. But the sting communicates with a venom-sac lodged in the insect’s body, and through a tiny channel running the length of the sting there is injected into the very heart of the wound a minute quantity of a highly dangerous liquid. After this injection the sting is withdrawn, while the venom remains in the wound; and that is what causes the pain.