As captivity might possibly result in a few anomalies of action, I decided to inquire how matters went forward in the open.  In the neighbourhood of some colonies of Philanthidae I lay in wait, watching for perhaps a longer time than the question justified, as it was already settled by what occurred in captivity.  My scrupulous watching at various times was rewarded.  The majority of the hunters immediately entered their nests, carrying the bees pressed against their bodies; some halted on the neighbouring undergrowth; and these I saw treating the bee in the usual manner, and lapping the honey from its mouth.  After these preparations the corpse was placed in the larder.  All doubt was thus destroyed:  the bees provided for the larvae are previously carefully emptied of their honey.

Since we are dealing with the subject, let us take the opportunity of inquiring into the customs of the Philanthus in a state of freedom.  Making use of her victims when absolutely lifeless, so that they would putrefy in the course of a few days, this hunter of bees cannot adopt the customs of certain insects which paralyse their prey, and fill their cellars before laying an egg.  She must surely be obliged to follow the method of the Bembex, whose larva receives, at intervals, the necessary nourishment; the amount increasing as the larva grows.  The facts confirm this deduction.  I spoke just now of the tediousness of my watching when watching the colonies of the Philanthus.  It was perhaps even more tedious than when I was keeping an eye upon the Bembex.  Before the burrows of Cerceris tuberculus and other devourers of the weevil, and before that of the yellow-winged Sphex, the slayer of crickets, there is plenty of distraction, owing to the busy movements of the community.  The mothers have scarcely entered the nest before they are off again, returning quickly with fresh prey, only to set out once more.  The going and coming is almost continuous until the storehouse is full.

The burrows of the Philanthus know nothing of such animation, even in a populous colony.  In vain my vigils prolonged themselves into whole mornings or afternoons, and only very rarely does the mother who has entered with a bee set forth upon a second expedition.  Two captures by the same huntress is the most that I have seen in my long watches.  Once the family is provided with sufficient food for the moment the mother postpones further hunting trips until hunting becomes necessary, and busies herself with digging and burrowing in her underground dwelling.  Little cells are excavated, and I see the rubbish from them gradually pushed up to the surface.  With that exception there is no sign of activity; it is as though the burrow were deserted.

To lay the nest bare is not easy.  The burrow penetrates to a depth of about three feet in a compact soil; sometimes in a vertical, sometimes in a horizontal direction.  The spade and pick, wielded by hands more vigorous but less expert than my own, are indispensable; but the conduct of the excavation is anything but satisfactory.  At the extremity of the long gallery—­it seems as though the straw I use for sounding would never reach the end—­we finally discover the cells, egg-shaped cavities with the longer axis horizontal.  Their number and their mutual disposition escape me.