“The precaution was needless,” his uncle assured him. “No ichneumon, however long its terebra may be, can sting your hand. The hymenopters that are to be feared have their sting hidden, and they bring it out only at the moment of attack.” “Those three thread-like things as long as the insect’s body—what are they for?” asked Jules. “The two lateral ones unite and form a scabbard for holding and protecting the middle one, the most important of the three, for it is used to deposit the eggs at the point chosen as suitable by the insect.” “I’ve seen ichneumons very much like this one,” said Louis, “with the terebra stuck right into the thick bark of a poplar. They must have been laying their eggs in the wood under the bark.” “No, they were doing something better than that. The larvæ of ichneumons live in the bodies of other larvæ, which they devour little by little without killing them until the very last. They are carnivorous larvæ: they must have fresh meat that is renewed about as fast as they eat it. The ichneumons Louis speaks of were engaged in depositing their eggs in the bodies of plump worms that live in the wood of the tree and turn into beetles.” “But these beetle-worms,” Jules pointed out, “were not in sight. They were under the bark and perhaps in the wood itself.” “The ichneumon does not need to see them to know where they are.” “Does it hear them then?” “No more than it sees them. The worm stays quietly in its little tunnel, being careful not to make any noise that will attract the attention of its enemy.” “Then the ichneumon must at least smell them.”