Alone in the wilderness. Nothing but jungle. A world of shadow with the rays of light falling like blonde hair from the crowns of the giant trees. Jungle in the midday sun. Everything motionless. Not a sound from sky or earth. Complete silence. Only some coconuts falling, at long intervals, very far away. The world reduced to the soft touch of cool grass along my naked back, and a sweet smell of rich soil and vegetation. Stretched out with closed eyes beside my heavy burden of fruit and firewood, I enjoyed the feeling of fresh blood streaming through every part of my body and fresh jungle air filling every corner of my lungs. Resting motionless, I could see the sun through my closed eyelids, alone in the sky, as lonely as I, and as motionless and silent as everything else. The earth had surely stopped turning and somewhere on this planet there was supposed to be roaring traffic in busy streets. What a crazy, unbelievable thought! Another coconut fell, to make the world come to a complete standstill. I had to roll over onto my stomach to feel that at least I could move and make noises. Then I found company. A little brown ant was struggling to find its way with a bit of dry straw through the jungle of leaves and grass below my nose. I wondered if I could give the little fellow a lift with its burden, but it showed not the slightest sign of tiredness and struggled on with all six legs, head first or head last, waving its feelers energetically as if the trip had just started. Who ever saw a tired ant? Tiredness, disagreeable tiredness, is restricted to hunted animals, slaves and modern man. It is as great an effort for an office clerk to walk five blocks with a loaded brief-case as it is for a jungle-dweller to cross a valley with a goat on his back. It is as hard to get up and climb or run when you have been seated for years as it is to get up and walk when you have been in bed for months. The body is strange. Spare it, and you get really tired for almost nothing; use it, and almost nothing makes you really tired. I rose to my feet. I had heard a horse neighing down in the valley. Above me, on the open highland plains, there were wild horses. But down in the valley there was never a horse unless there was a man on it. Somebody was making his way up the valley and my wife was alone. How does the author feel about the ant?
He admired its attitude toward work. He was amazed at its tireless efforts. He showed sympathy for the little ant. He was content to have it as a companion.