ce and perhaps also for attack. The Pompilus moves
away and the Segestria reenters her tube. A fresh alarm: the Pompilus
returns; another threatening demonstration on the part of the Spider.
Her neighbour, a little later, does better than this: while the huntress
is prowling about in the neighbourhood of the funnel, she suddenly leaps
out of the tube, with the lifeline which will save her from falling,
should she miss her footing, attached to her spinnerets; she rushes
forward and hurls herself in front of the Pompilus, at a distance
of some eight inches from her burrow. The Wasp, as though terrified,
immediately decamps; and the Segestria no less suddenly retreats
indoors.

Here, we must admit, is a strange quarry: it does not hide, but is eager
to show itself; it does not run away, but flings itself in front of the
hunter. If our observations were to cease here, could we say which of
the two is the hunter and which the hunted? Should we not feel sorry for
the imprudent Pompilus? Let a thread of the trap entangle her leg; and
it is all up with her. The other will be there, stabbing her in the
throat. What then is the method which she employs against the Segestria,
always on the alert, ready for defence, audacious to the point of
aggression? Shall I surprise the reader if I tell him that this problem
filled me with the most eager interest, that it held me for weeks in
contemplation before that cheerless wall? Nevertheless, my tale will be
a short one.

On several occasions I see the Pompilus suddenly fling herself on one of
the Spider's legs, seize it with her mandibles and endeavour to draw the
animal from its tube. It is a sudden rush, a surprise attack, too
quick to permit the Spider to parry it. Fortunately, the latter's two
hind-legs are firmly hooked to the dwelling; and the Segestria escapes
with a jerk, for the other, having delivered her shock attack, hastens
to release her hold; if she persisted, the affair might end badly for
her. Having failed in this assault, the Wasp repeats the procedure
at other funnels; she will even return to the first when the alarm is
somewhat assuaged. Still hopping and fluttering, she prowls around the
mouth, whence the Segestria watches her, with her legs outspread. She
waits for the propitious moment; she leaps forward, seizes a leg, tugs
at it and springs out of reach. More often than not, the Spider holds
fast; sometimes she is dragged out of the tube, to a distance of a few