"Maybe they once hung from tree branches by their tails, along with
the furry monkeys," suggested Moro, who often thought of the odd side
of things.

"What a gripping tale you are telling," added Fil, who indulged in
roguish puns.

"Well, our monkeys are as good for men to eat, as for cats," said Moro.

"Imagination has as much as taste to do with food; and, unless you call
my next stewed monkey dish, deer or lamb, I won't eat it," I remarked.

Fil and Moro laughed and winked; for they had planned this true but
strange story to make me feel uncomfortable for a minute.

CHAPTER XIII

FLYING ANTS AND LOCUSTS

We all climbed back into the buffalo-wagon, to go homeward. On the
way, we passed a house which had collapsed in the middle, as though
a great weight had broken its backbone.

"A blind, flying ant did that," said Fil.

"Now, Fil, you really think I'm from the backwoods; you wish me to
believe impossible tales," I replied.

"Not a bit of it," said Fil. "A flying white ant broke the thick
beams of that big building, just as though a mountain fell on it,
or as if an earthquake had rent it."

"Why, then, did they not stop the ants, the silly, lazy people?" I
exclaimed.

"Because they couldn't see or hear them," said Fil. "You see,
it happens in this way. Our deadly white ant flies in a cloud of
ants. When he reaches a house, he bores inside; then he is happy. He
feels his way. He does not need to see. He just follows his nose,
so to speak.

"His sense of smell, perhaps, draws him to the lumber of the house
on which he lives. He does not like air. So, when he reaches a beam,
he and all the other brother ants eat out the heart of it; but they
do not break the shell, which is painted. The people in the house do
not know anything about this, for the ants of course make no noise,
and the painted outside surface of the beam is unbroken.

"Suddenly there is a strain during a typhoon, or a jar is caused by
some person walking overhead; and down comes the whole house, like
a person whose bones suddenly give way and become powder. The ants
have escaped, because they have eaten the whole beam and have gone
elsewhere for food."

"Can't you catch and destroy such awful pests?" I asked.

"Oh, yes! It's great fun," replied Filippa. We place a pail of water in
a dark place, and light a candle which floats on a saucer. The ants fly
to the light. Their wings are burnt off; and, silly, half-blind things,
they