The work of removing the developing population thus appeared in our ant’s nest to absorb the entire energies of the alarmed denizens. Pupa after pupa was carried out from amongst the debris and taken for a considerable distance—certainly fifteen inches—to a place of security, beneath a small sloping stone of flat shape, which roofed over a hollow in the ground. So far as I could observe, the scouts must have discovered this place of refuge, and have communicated the intelligence to their neighbors. The regularity with which the slumbering innocents were conveyed to the same spot would appear to point to concerted work and to a definite idea, if one may so term it, having animated the laborers. I was careful to ascertain at an early stage of the proceedings that the place of refuge had no communications with the nest. It was, in point of fact, an entirely new habitation, and, as far as human judgment might venture upon an opinion, the new residence appeared to give promise of being a safe and convenient domicile. Now and then an ant would emerge from the ruins of the nest carrying a younger hopeful in the larva or caterpillar stage. This latter was a little white grub, which corresponds in its development to the grub or caterpillar of the butterfly or fly; the ants thus exemplifying insects which undergo a complete “metamorphosis.” It was rather a difficult matter to ascertain clearly if the ants were actually excavating the chrysalides from amongst the debris. Bearing in mind what Sir John Lubbock has told us concerning the apparent inability of ants to discover the whereabouts of companions buried under earth, I rather lean to the belief that my ants simply conveyed to a place of safety those chrysalides which were at hand and readily obtainable. The latter fact I could not ascertain, since I feared to disturb the ants at their interesting labors; but a simple experiment served to show the feasibility of the idea that the chrysalides were probably within easy reach of the ants.