Still more would the Pangolins flourish, for though they are toothless and walk very clumsily, because their front feet are bent under so that they tread on the upper part, yet they have two means of protection. First, like the ant-eater, they live chiefly underground and come out at night; and secondly, their back is covered with sharp-edged scales, which grow from the skin as hairs do, and can be raised into a complete _cheval-de-frise_ as they roll themselves up, or tuck their tail and head between their legs when they are attacked. Thus protected, the scaly ant-eaters not only flourish in Africa, but have even kept their ground in India, China, and Ceylon. In America, on the other hand, we find that the armadilloes have gone strangely back to the bony armour of the reptiles or the ancient Labyrinthodonts, and have shields on their backs and heads formed of skin-plates exactly like those of the crocodile, so that the only delicate part of their body is the under side, which is kept close to the ground. When we see how well they are protected, and also remember that they are extremely quick burrowers and can get out of the way of dangerous enemies, while they feed on vegetables, insects, and dead creatures, we see why the plains and forests of South America should abound in armadilloes of all sizes, from the Great Armadillo, as large as a moderate-sized pig, to the little Pichiciago, not larger than a rat. It would be more difficult to understand how the great hairy Ant-bear[127] (p. 200), with his twisted feet, united toes, and toothless tube-like snout, has managed to live on in the dense forests of South America, if we did not know that he is immensely strong, and his sharp claws and the deadly hug of his muscular arms are avoided even by large animals, while the small American Ant-eaters[128] live chiefly in the trees, feeding on bees, termites, and honey. A strange fellow is the great ant-bear as he wanders at night slowly and heavily along the river-banks, his long bushy tail sweeping behind him and his head bent low; or, if it be a mother, she may be carrying her little one clinging to her back, or pause to hold it in her long arms as it sucks. Be this as it may, by-and-by the ant-bear reaches a group of nests of termites (wrongly called white ants), looming six feet high in the dark night; at once the sharp claws are at work tearing the hill to pieces, though they are so strongly built that men have to open them with a crowbar, and as the alarmed termites rush out, the long sticky tongue wanders among them and they are drawn into the ant-bear’s mouth by thousands. Yet the ant-bear has his enemies, for it may be that in his night-walk he may come across the fierce jaguar in search of prey.