"
"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.
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