But the chasm did not stop the crickets. It only served to delay the advance of the Americans, and in a split second they were again chasing down a long corridor as fast as they could go. Now, they discovered that they could outrun the crickets. It was a long straight-a-way, and they could leap many feet in a single jump.
They came to another division of the passage, and Epworth started to take the left hand. Joan stopped him.
“I may be wrong,” she said, “but I seem to have a natural orientation that tells me that our planes are in this direction.”
“All dark holes in the moon look alike to me,” Epworth responded. “We turn to the right to suit you.”
There was a delay, and they were not far down this new cavern when they heard the patter of the crickets behind them. Now the cavern twisted and turned; now the crickets began to chirp their musical notes of triumph.
And their hearts went cold.
Joan stumbled, and Epworth stopped to help her. When he raised her and looked upward he could not see the roof. Ahead he saw a wide open space. When he looked to the right he heard a loud chirping of crickets but could not see them. In other words, in one direction he could see; in the other he could not.
“I can’t understand that,” he exclaimed aloud. “Why can I not see to the right?”
“Because on your left there is darkness, and on the right there is light. The light comes from the great cricket chamber. We have run around in a half circle and are coming again to the hive of crickets.”
As Moawha spoke she lifted the head gear from Epworth’s head.