The Cricket's Friends Part 2

"For my own part I did not fear being devoured, as I knew I was too p.r.i.c.kly and tough a morsel to tempt any appet.i.te. The Field-cricket, however, might with reason entertain apprehensions, for he was as sleek and plump as I was lean and bristly. He took the precaution of putting me between himself and our guide, so that he could keep on guard should the Mole-cricket forget his promise. Well, the latter behaved very well instead; so I have really no complaint to make. He led us through such a number of dark pa.s.sages, that I was fairly bewildered with the size and variety of the smooth-walled tunnels.

"'Why do you have so many?' I inquired, when we paused, quite out of breath, in a kind of central chamber.

"'Oh!' he replied, 'one must have a large house to run about in; and after all it is not so much work to make it. Besides, I can hide securely here, in ever so many different places, if necessary. This is the nursery,' he added, pausing before a really large cavity, which was much nearer the surface of the ground than the rest of his habitation.

It was a fine apartment, nicely prepared for the reception of some two or three hundred yellow eggs.

"'I build this so much nearer the surface,' explained the Mole-cricket, 'so that the eggs may have the benefit of the sun's warmth, although I dislike it so much myself, that I always burrow deep in the earth while the daylight lasts.'

"All this time I observed the Field-cricket grew more ill at ease,--now giving an anxious croak, then skipping back a pace, if the Mole-cricket only looked at him. He had some cause, sure enough. When we arrived at the entrance once more, I saluted our host courteously, thanking him for the pleasure he had given us. The Mole-cricket, instead of replying politely, made a sudden rush at his cousin, with his large jaws wide open. I stepped between them just in time to save the Field-cricket, who ran away as fast as ever he could; and that is the last I ever saw of him.

"'You had better go home again,' I said to the disappointed Mole-cricket. 'All I regret is that I should have seen you do such a thing, for I did not suppose you were so much of a barbarian.'

"'Ho, ho!' he growled, in a sulky tone. 'I would eat you up for your impudence, were you not so tough-looking.'

"'I am afraid you would have a nightmare afterward,' I rejoined; and then we parted, never to meet again.

"My attention was next attracted to a globe, about the size of a cricket-ball, suspended from the head of a thistle by several stout gra.s.s stems. It was woven together firmly, and presented no opening that I could perceive; yet the walls were so delicately thin, that the forms of some tiny animals, packed snugly together in this secure, though airy nest, were to be seen. Presently I beheld a pretty little creature, clothed in thick, soft fur, marked with white, nimbly climbing the stem of a plant, to pounce upon an unsuspicious fly, which it did as swiftly and accurately as a swallow.

"'What do you want here?' said the Harvest-mouse suspiciously.

"'I am only seeking a night's lodging; so I will creep into this harebell, I think.'

"I slept soundly; the wind rocked my cradle delightfully. The next morning my curiosity was gratified, when I peeped out, by seeing the Harvest-mouse pay a visit to the baby mice. Her own body was so slender, that she could easily crawl through any s.p.a.ce in the nest: which she did; and, when she came out again, the opening was carefully covered by the meshes of fine gra.s.s blades, so that the ball was apparently entire as before.

"'Ah, ha! my lady,' I cried, jumping down beside her. 'That is the way you do it, eh?'

"The mother-mouse gave a little shriek of terror; but then, seeing it was only a Spider that spoke, she laughed good-naturedly.

"'I am not afraid of harm from you,' she said 'but there are so many horrible creatures about, ready to destroy us, that my nerves are often sadly shaken.'

"'Pooh! you must not be so timid,' I urged. 'Now, for my part, I have travelled a long distance; yet I have found no peril that I could not easily escape from.'

"'Never mind,' returned the Harvest-mouse, shaking her head. 'You will be frightened yet, depend upon it.'

"I soon found, to my sorrow, that I was to be not only frightened, but in serious danger. I was nearly killed the next moment by the ant-lion."

"What is an ant-lion?" inquired the Teapot.

"Ah! I know," sighed the Wasp.

"And I also," echoed the Cricket.

"But what is it?" chimed in the eager Saucepan, by this time quite interested in the Spider's narrative.

"I will tell you," pursued the Spider. "The ant-lion is a beautiful kind of insect, resembling the dragon-fly in its larval or imperfect state.

It feeds chiefly upon active insects; and, as it is too slow of motion to catch them otherwise, it resorts to a very clever expedient,--it makes all food come within reach; thus saving a world of trouble. The head is furnished with a pair of long, curved mandibles, which gives to the inner jaws a free play. The grub makes a pitfall to entrap any pa.s.sing prey, by tracing a shallow trench, the circle varying from one to two 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 trench. By continuing this process, always tracing smaller and smaller circles, the ant-lion at last completes a conical pit, buries itself in the sand, and waits.

"Like many another inquisitive ant, beetle, or spider, I went along to the edge of the pit, and peeped in to see what it might contain, when to my horror the sand gave way, and I slid down, down, almost into the jaws opened wide to receive me. I turned faint with fright for a moment; then strength returned, and I scrambled up the side again. This was not easy, as may be imagined: the sand loosened more and more every step I took, and, even faster than I showered it down, the ant-lion flung it back, endeavoring to keep the sides steep, and prevent my escape.

"I just struggled to the brink, when who should come to my a.s.sistance but the good-hearted Harvest-mouse, who had witnessed the whole affair from her overhanging nest. She kindly extended her long tail for my benefit, which I eagerly clutched, and so was dragged out alive.

"Ugh! I never see a dragon-fly floating along, without thinking of that dreadful pit where the ant-lion lurked in waiting for victims. I felt too much exhausted to move after that, and, while in so miserably helpless a state, a bird snapped me up, to carry me through the air by three legs, as food for the young birds. They were very hungry,--children generally are,--but they would not give me so much as a peck of their greedy bills.

"'Why did you not bring a nice, fat-bodied garden-spider, while you were about it?' said the robin-mother reproachfully.

"I was then flung out of the nest, and fortunately caught upon a projecting twig as I fell. I hid under a leaf to rest awhile, congratulating myself that I was so rough and ugly.

"Several pretty young squirrels were whisking about the branches, while their parents gravely watched their sports with tails curled up over their backs in repose; or joined in the fun, chasing to loftier perches, where it made me giddy to watch them swaying about, and leaping from tree to tree, then returning to my immediate vicinity again.

"'Do you live out here?' I inquired, going towards them.

"'Yes,' they said, 'this is our summer house, you know; and very comfortable we find it for the heat of the season.'

"'I wish you would let me look at it.'

"'Oh! you can do that, certainly. It is built in sight of all the world.

This is not the case with our winter house, however.'

"The cage was made of very slight materials, and placed upon the extremity of a frail branch, that swayed with every gust of wind. 'I should think you would be shaken out,' I remarked.

"'Not a bit of it,' returned the mother Squirrel. 'We could not be reached by any animal, the branch is so slender; and I am seldom frightened by the cries of boys,--unless, indeed, a stone should rudely strike the cage, when I take each of my young ones in my mouth, and deposit them in a place of safety.'

"'Where, then, is your winter home?' I next asked.

"'Ah! that is a question,' replied the father Squirrel, rubbing his nose with one little paw, in a knowing way.

"'I do not wish to make any impertinent inquiries, but I should like very much to know something more of your interesting family,' I said modestly.

"Upon this the two parents whispered and nodded together for a time, then turned to me again. 'If you promise not to tell any cat afterward, you can see it,' they said.

"Of course I consented. The winter cage was located in the fork of a tree, where the boughs concealed it from view, and served to shelter from the wind as well. The nest was quite large, being composed of moss, leaves, and gra.s.s.

"'Come in and see how nice and warm it is,' invited the hospitable Squirrels.

"'Do you build a new house every year?'

"'No: that would be too much trouble; so we generally occupy one for several seasons.'

"Bidding the amiable Squirrel family good-by, I crawled down the tree to the earth once more. I began to weary of this rough-and-tumble sort of life. In the struggle with the ant-lion I had sprained my back, which malady was severely aggravated by the rude treatment of the bird that carried me through the air, only to throw me away when the nestlings declined tasting of me.

"I reached the bank of the stream where I had first seen the Kingfisher; then, as the day was cloudy and cool, I sat down in a nut-sh.e.l.l, that served to keep me warm. While I lazily watched the fish dart through the crystal waters, and the birds flutter overhead, a curious object came floating towards me. What do you suppose it was? Why, nothing less than a snug raft of dried leaves and twigs, fastened together with silken threads, that bobbed along right merrily, bearing the sailor who constructed it easily and securely. He was really a remarkably handsome fellow, of a dark, chocolate-brown color, marked with a broad, orange band, and with pale-red legs. This was the floating palace of the Raft-spider, who not only pursues insects on sh.o.r.e, but trots out upon the water after them just as well. In doing this he requires some resting-place, and so builds the raft that excited my wonder and admiration. When he saw me sitting in the nut-sh.e.l.l on the sh.o.r.e, he laughed loudly; while I was only too glad to attract his attention, for I had a favor to ask.

"'Will you take me on board?' I inquired.

"'Yes: run ahead to yonder large pebble; then you can jump on when I pa.s.s by.'

"I did so; and when he came alongside I sprang aboard of the raft, which was amply large enough to receive both of us. I thought there never was better fun than sailing down the stream in this style. We danced along smoothly on the current when the water was calm, or we whirled round eddies and rapids; but we pa.s.sed through all these dangers in safety.

The Raft-spider conversed pleasantly. He frequently dashed overboard after some unlucky insect that had fallen into the water, moths, flies, and beetles; or he snapped up some tiny wanderer that rose to the surface for air; sometimes even crawling down the stems of plants for prey to the depth of several inches. He always returned to the raft with these spoils, and cordially invited me to share them, which I did with relish.