And now, cheerily! It moves, it rolls; we shall get there, though not without accident. Here is a first difficult step: the Beetle is wending his way athwart a slope and the heavy mass tends to follow the incline; but the insect, for reasons best known to itself, prefers to cut across this natural road, a bold plan which a false step or a grain of sand disturbing the balance may defeat. The false step is made; the ball rolls to the bottom of the valley; and the insect, toppled over by the impetus of its load, kicks about, gets up on its legs again and hastens to harness itself once more. The mechanism is working better than ever. But look out, you scatterbrain! Follow the dip of the valley: that will save you labour and mishap; the road is good and level; your ball will roll quite easily. Not a bit of it! The insect prepares once more to mount the slope that was already its undoing. Perhaps it suits it to return to the heights. Against that I have nothing to say: the Scarab’s opinion is more far-seeing than mine as to the advisability of keeping to lofty regions. But, at least, take this path, which will lead you up by a gentle incline! Not at all! If he find himself near some very steep slope, impossible to climb, that is what the obstinate fellow prefers. And now begins a labour of Sisyphus. The ball, that enormous burden, is painfully hoisted, step by step, with infinite precautions, to a certain height, always backwards. I ask myself by what static miracle so great a mass can be kept upon the slope. Oh! An ill-planned movement frustrates all this toil: the ball comes down, dragging the beetle with it! The escalade is repeated, soon to be followed by another fall. The attempt is renewed, better-managed this time at the difficult points; a confounded grass-root, the cause of the previous tumbles, is carefully turned. We are almost there; but gently, gently! The ascent is dangerous and a mere nothing may yet spoil all. For see, a leg slips on a smooth bit of gravel! Down come ball and Dung-beetle, all mixed up together. And the Beetle begins over again, with indefatigable persistency. Ten times, a score of times, he will attempt the thankless ascent, until his obstinacy vanquishes all obstacles, or until, recognizing the uselessness of his efforts, he takes to the level road.