A very different creature to the ant-bear or the ant-hog (aard vark) is the ant-lion. In its mature state it is like a dragon-fly, to which order of insects (for it is an insect) it belongs, but whilst still in the larval or caterpillar condition it looks something like a fat spider with six, instead of eight, very feeble legs, with the last pair of which, only, it is able to move, but only slowly, and backwards instead of forwards. It is, therefore, quite unable to chase and catch an ant, and yet on ants and other equally active insects it manages to prey. To do so it employs a stratagem which has long been known and marvelled at. “Depressing,” says Wood, “the end of its abdomen, and crawling backwards in a circular direction, it traces a shallow trench, the circle varying from one to three inches in diameter. It then makes another round, starting just within the first circle, and so it proceeds, continually scooping up the sand with its head, and jerking it outside the limits of its trench. By continuing this process, and always tracing smaller and smaller circles, the grub at last completes a conical pit, and then buries itself in the sand, holding the mandibles widely extended. Should an insect, an ant, for example, happen to pass near the pitfall, it will be sure to go and look into the cavity, partly out of the insatiable curiosity which distinguishes ants, cats, monkeys, and children, and partly out of a desire to obtain food. No sooner has the ant approached the margin of the pitfall than the treacherous soil gives way, the poor insect goes tumbling and rolling down the yielding sides of the pit, and falls into the extended jaws that are waiting for it at the bottom. A smart bite kills the ant, the juices are extracted, the empty carcase is jerked out of the pit, and the ant-lion settles itself in readiness for another victim.” CHAPTER XI AQUATIC ARCHERY—THE ANGLER-FISH AND THE CUTTLEFISH—INSECT ARTILLERY—EELS THAT GIVE ELECTRIC SHOCKS. In the ant-lion that we have just been talking about it might be thought that the summit of strategy, as employed by one animal to prey upon another, had been reached. Inasmuch as the archer-fish uses only the weapon with which Nature has provided it, and does not add to its efficacy by any artifice other than that of simple stalking—as it constructs nothing, in a word—perhaps its instinct is not really so extraordinary as that of the insect in question. But there is something so bizarre in it, so striking to the imagination—the idea is so pretty and quaint—that when one first reads about it—for only the far-travelled few are lucky enough to see it—it impresses one even more.