If surprised in its mining, one always finds this Sphex alone—sometimes at the bottom of some dusty niche a fallen stone has left in an old wall—sometimes in a shelter formed by a projecting bit of sandstone, such as is sought by the fierce-eyed lizard as a vestibule to its retreat. The sun falls full upon it; the place is a furnace. The soil is extremely easy to hollow, formed as it is by ancient dust which has dropped little by little from the roof. The mandibles, which act as pincers to dig with, and the tarsi, as rakes to clear away, soon hollow the cavity. Then the Sphex flies off, but in a leisurely way, and without any great expenditure of wing power, a manifest sign that the expedition is not a long one. One’s eye can easily follow the insect and discover where it alights, usually some ten yards off. Sometimes it decides to go on foot. It sets out, hurrying to a spot where we will be indiscreet enough to follow, our presence noways troubling it. Having arrived on foot or on the wing it hunts about for a while, as one may conclude from its indecision and short excursions on all sides. It seeks and at last finds, or rather finds anew. The object found is an ephippiger, half-paralysed, but still moving antennæ, tarsi, and ovipositor—a victim which the Sphex certainly poignarded a little while before with several stings, and then left her prey, an embarrassing burden, while she still hesitated as to the choice of a domicile. Perhaps she abandoned it on the very spot of the capture, leaving it rather obvious on a grass tuft the better to find it later, and trusting to her good memory to return where lies the booty, set to work to explore the neighbourhood and find a suitable spot to burrow. This done she came back for the game which was found without much hesitation, and now she prepares to convey it home. She bestrides the insect, seizes one or both antennæ and sets off, pulling and dragging with all the strength of loins and jaws.