“No, thanks; I’ll take your word for it, old man. They ought to be good for something, since they have used up the country.”
“Oh, next rains will make that all right.”
“Meantime, I suppose there will be starvation amongst the game?”
“No; they will eat these as we do; after that they will move off to other parts.”
In another couple of hours the company arrived at the cliffs. The ground was still covered with locusts, which had been unable to rise, and the stream-bed was completely filled, so that no water could be seen.
In front of them yawned a chasm of about a hundred yards wide. Wall-like precipices rose on either side and stretched upward for five thousand feet with hardly a break. A few fissures and cracks were discernible here and there, but no ledge which could afford a foot or handgrip for even the most expert climber.
The ground was hard and stony, yet even here, as far as they could look into the cavity, it was overspread with locusts.
The stream penetrated this barren gully, and also continued as far as they could see. Eastward and west these same smooth precipices extended, like a coastline until merged in distance. Serrated on the ridges, at long intervals they presented similar openings to the one they now stood before. Possibly these were water-sheds in the rainy seasons, but at present there were no signs of streams flowing. After a careful survey east and westward, Ned decided that the Rhodes river opening was the most promising route to follow.
Without any more hesitation, he strode into the shadow of the cliffs and out of the sun glare, crushing his hundreds of locusts each step he took. The rest followed him obediently, still singing as they went along.
A crowd of aasvogels had come down from their lofty watching-posts, and were busy glutting themselves with the locusts. These vultures merely lifted their ugly bald heads and bare necks and looked at the invaders as they passed, and then continued their feasting, hardly budging out of the way.