After marching for about a quarter of an hour, the army halted before an ant-hill, the home of a colony of small, black ants. These swarmed out to meet the red ones, and, to Huber's surprise, a combat, short but fierce, took place at the foot of the hill.
A small number of the blacks fought bravely to the last, but the rest soon fled, panic-stricken, through the gates farthest from the battle-field, carrying away some of their young. They seemed to know it was the young ants that the invaders were seeking. The red warriors quickly forced their way into the tiny city and returned, loaded with children of the blacks.
Carrying their living booty, the kidnappers left the pillaged town and started toward their home, whither Huber followed them. Great was his astonishment when, at the threshold of the red ants' dwelling, he saw numbers of black ants come forward to receive the young captives and to welcome them—children of their own race, doomed to be bond-servants in a strange land.
Here, then, was a miniature city, in which strong red ants lived in peace with small black ones.

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