go, except with
the morsel he has fastened on to. And there were millions!"

"I can hardly imagine you were stopped by ants," said Compton.

"The ground before us was alive as far as we could see, and red. It
was like standing on the bank of a river, and the myriads went on
through the day until dusk. I have seen swarms of locusts on the
march in the voetganger stage, and a large swarm will cover a length
of three miles, but never would I have believed so many living
things could gather together."

Compton laughed again. "Held up by an army of ants! I can't get the
idea."

Mr. Hume rolled back his sleeves, and there were red marks from
wrist to shoulder.

"And that was done only by the scouts on the tree I attempted to
climb. Muata says they have put whole villages to flight."

"Eweh," said the chief, "and even the elephant will turn from their
path, else would they get into his ears, his trunk, and to the soft
parts between his legs, biting each a little piece of skin. They
fear nothing. Death to them is nothing. I have seen them stop a fire
by the numbers of dead they heaped upon it in their march."

"So we had to wait, and it was not a pleasant time for me. But,
thank goodness, you are safe--aye, and safe, thanks to your own
pluck."

"Dick did it all," said Venning. "I seemed to get dizzy all at
once."

"I am not surprised," said Mr. Hume, looking grave; "and I think we
ought to go back. The air is too heavy."

"After a good sleep I shall feel better," said Venning.

"It would be too bad to turn back."

"It would be too bad if you fell ill."

"What do you say, Muata?"

Muata lifted his hand. "Those who would cross the forest must be of
the forest. Who are the people of the forest? Not those who live in
the plains. Even the river-people are afraid to go far in. What are
the creatures of the forest? They are those born among the trees,
and those who dwell in the open seldom enter into the darkness and
the quiet of the wood."

"Yet," said Compton, "there are people of the forest, and animals
also, and they live." "For them are the trees."

"But when they go about they must travel under the trees."

"That is your word," said the chief. "But it must be so."

"Muata is right," said Mr. Hume. "We have only entered the fringe,
and already we are different people. The lungs cry for pure air."

"Yet there is a way," said Muata; and his eyes fell upon the tawny
hide of the tree-lion. "How, chief?"