The thing to do now, of course, was to find its nest. There are various ways of finding the nest of any particular ant you may happen to discover running about loose over the country, but not one of them am I going to tell you. They are good things to work out for yourself. Mary and I know how, and so we had little trouble and didn't have to spend much time in finding the home of our wandering _Prenolepis_,--there it is again,--campus honey-ant I mean. And that is a fair name for it, for McCook who found the famous honey-ants of the Garden of the Gods in Colorado named his kind _Myrmecocystus melliger hortusdeorum_, which is straight Latin and Greek for the "honey-pot ant of the Garden of the Gods." But _what_ a name for a little ant one-eighth of an inch long to carry! It would take too many words and I am afraid would be too trivial a story for even this very happy-go-lucky little book to tell how Mary and I dug and dug in the ground near the foot of the tree, and how carefully we worked with our garden-trowel and mostly with our fingers! And how we traced out runway after runway and opened chamber after chamber of the honey-ant's nest until we found the honey-pantry with its strange jars of sweetness all hanging from the roof. The picture that Mary carefully sketched in, and that Sekko Shimada painted for us with his dainty Japanese brushes and little saucers of costly Japanese ink, shows very well part of the nest, that part that had one of the honey-rooms in. You won't see the base of the Monterey pine-tree in the picture, nor any of the other trees that were all around, because Mary didn't put them into her sketch, and we forgot to tell Sekko where the nest was. But the galleries and honey-chamber and the ants themselves are all right in Sekko's picture. In some of the galleries we had found ants with considerably swollen hind bodies, which evidently had the stomach or crop well filled with some nearly transparent, pale yellowish-brown liquid. But it was not until we discovered the honey-pantry that we saw the extraordinary fully laden real live honey-jars, which were, of course, nothing but some of the worker ants hanging by their feet from the roof of the chamber, with their hind bodies enormously swollen by the great quantity of honey held in the crop. In opening the chamber we dislodged two or three of the honey-jars that fell to the floor and could hardly turn over or walk at all, so helpless were they. And one of them broke and the honey came out in a big drop, and I tasted it on the tip of my little finger, and it was sweet. So it was surely honey. And you should have seen how eagerly two or three other workers in the chamber, without swollen bodies, lapped up this sweet drop that came out of the body of the poor, broken honey-jar!