Hercules, with his ax, crumbled the first story of cells, which was composed of crisp red clay.
He thus raised, more than a foot, the interior part of the swampy earth on which the ant-hill rested, and Dick Sand made sure that the air could freely penetrate to the interior of the cone through the orifice pierced at its base.
It was, certainly, a fortunate circumstance that the ant-hill had been abandoned by the termites.
With a few thousands of these ants, it would have been uninhabitable.
But, had it been evacuated for some time, or had the voracious newroptera but just quitted it?
It was not superfluous to ponder this question.
Cousin Benedict was so much surprised at the abandonment, that he at once considered the reason for it, and he was soon convinced that the emigration had been recent.
In fact, he did not wait, but, descending to the lower part of the cone, and taking the lantern, he commenced to examine the most secret corners of the ant-hill.
He thus discovered what is called the "general store-house" of the termites, that is to say, the place where these industrious insects lay up the provisions of the colony.
It was a cavity hollowed in the wall, not far from the royal cell, which Hercules's labor had destroyed, along with the cells destined for the young larvae.
In this store-room Cousin Benedict collected a certain quantity of particles of gum and the juices of plants, scarcely solidified, which proved that the termites had lately brought them from without.
"Well, no!" cried he. "No!" as if he were replying to some contradiction,
"No, this ant-hill has not been long abandoned."
"Who says to the contrary, Mr. Benedict?" said Dick Sand.
"Recently or not, the important thing for us is that the termites have left it, because we have to take their place."
"The important thing," replied Cousin Benedict, "will be to know why they have left it.
Yesterday—this morning, perhaps—these sagacious newroptera were still here, because, see these liquid juices; and this evening——"
"Well, what do you conclude, Mr. Benedict?" asked Dick Sand.
"That a secret presentiment has caused them to abandon the cone.
Not only have all the termites left their cells, but they have taken care to carry away the young larvae, of which I cannot find one.
Well, I repeat that all this was not done without a motive, and that these sagacious insects foresaw some near danger."
"They foresaw that we were going to invade their dwelling," replied Hercules, laughing.
"Indeed!" replied Cousin Benedict, whom this answer sensibly shocked.
"You think yourself so strong that you would be dangerous to these courageous insects?
A few thousand of these newroptera would quickly reduce you to a skeleton if they found you dead on the road."
"Dead, certainly," replied Hercules, who would not give up; "but, living, I could crush masses of them."
"You might crush a hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, a million," replied Cousin Benedict, with animation, "but not a thousand millions; and a thousand millions would devour you, living or dead, to the last morsel."
During this discussion, which was less trifling than might be supposed, Dick Sand reflected on the observations made by Cousin Benedict.
There was no doubt that the savant knew too much about the habits of the termites to be mistaken.
If he declared that a secret instinct warned them to leave the ant-hill recently, it was because there was truly peril in remaining in it.
Meanwhile, as it was impossible to abandon this shelter at a moment when the storm was raging with unparalleled intensity, Dick Sand looked no farther for an explanation of what seemed to be inexplicable, and he contented himself with saying:
"Well, Mr. Benedict, if the termites have left their provisions in this ant-hill, we must not forget that we have brought ours, and let us have supper.
To-morrow, when the storm will be over, we will consult together on our future plans."
They then occupied themselves in preparing the evening meal, for, great as their fatigue was, it had not affected the appetite of these vigorous walkers.
On the contrary, the food, which had to last for two more days, was very welcome.
The damp had not reached the biscuits, and for several minutes it could be heard cracking under the solid teeth of Dick Sand and his companions.
Between Hercules's jaws it was like grain under the miller's grindstone. It did not crackle, it powdered.
Mrs. Weldon alone scarcely eat, and even Dick Sand's entreaties were vain.
It seemed to him that this brave woman was more preoccupied, more sad than she had been hitherto.
Meanwhile her little Jack suffered less; the fever had not returned, and at this time he was sleeping, under his mother's eyes, in a cell well lined with garments.
Dick Sand knew not what to think.
It is useless to say that Cousin Benedict did honor to the repast, not that he paid any attention either to the quality or to the quantity of the food that he devoured, but because he had found an opportunity to deliver a lecture in entomology on the termites.
Ah! if he had been able to find a termite, a single one, in the deserted ant hill! But nothing.
"These admirable insects," said he, without taking the trouble to find out if any one were listening—"these admirable insects belong to the marvelous order of newroptera, whose horns are longer than the head, the jaws very distinct, and whose lower wings are generally equal to the upper ones.
Five tribes constitute this order: the Panorpates (scorpion flies), the Myrmileoniens, the Hemerobins, the Termitines and the Perlides.
It is useless to add that the insects which now interest us, and whose dwelling we occupy, perhaps unduly, are the Termitines."
At this moment Dick Sand listened very attentively to Cousin Benedict.
Had the meeting with these termites excited in him the thought that he was perhaps on the African continent, without knowing by what chance he had arrived there?
The young novice was very anxious to find out.
The savant, mounted on his favorite hobby, continued to ride it beautifully.