As the ranks fill out, the two sections of the chain meet and the circle is reconstituted.

The momentary leaders once more become simple subordinates; and again the caterpillars march round and round all day.
For the second time in succession, the night, which is very calm and magnificently starry, brings a hard frost.

In the morning the Processionaries on the tub, the only ones who have camped unsheltered, are gathered into a heap which largely overflows both sides of the fatal ribbon.

I am present at the awakening of the numbed ones.

The first to take the road is, as luck will have it, outside the track.
Hesitatingly he ventures into unknown ground.