ld find nothing to live on in this desert, and with them had also
disappeared the carnivorous animals.

The nights no longer echoed the accustomed roarings. Nothing broke
the silence but the concert of frogs, which Cameron compares with the
noise of calkers calking a ship; with riveters who rivet, and the
drillers who drill, in a shipbuilder's yard.

The country on the two banks was flat and destitute of trees as far
as the most distant hills that bounded it on the east and west. The
spurges grew alone and in profusion--not the euphosbium which produces
cassava or tapioca flour, but those from which they draw an oil which
does not serve as food.

Meantime it is necessary to provide some nourishment.

Dick Sand knew not what to do, and Hercules reminded him that the
natives often eat the young shoots of the ferns and the pith which the
papyrus leaf contains. He himself, while following the caravan of Ibn
Ilamis across the desert, had been more than once reduced to this
expedient to satisfy his hunger. Happily, the ferns and the papyrus
grew in profusion along the banks, and the marrow or pith, which has a
sweet flavor, was appreciated by all, particularly by little Jack.

This was not a very cheering prospect; the food was not strengthening,
but the next day, thanks to Cousin Benedict, they were better served.
Since the discovery of the "Hexapodus Benedictus," which was to
immortalize his name, Cousin Benedict had recovered his usual manners.
The insect was put in a safe place, that is to say, stuck in the crown
of his hat, and the savant had recommenced his search whenever they
were on shore. During that day, while hunting in the high grass, he
started a bird whose warbling attracted him.

Dick Sand was going to shoot it, when Cousin Benedict cried out:

"Don't fire, Dick! Don't fire! A bird among five persons would not be
enough."

"It will be enough for Jack," replied Dick Sand, taking aim at the
bird, which was in no hurry to fly away.

"No, no!" said Cousin Benedict, "do not fire! It is an indicator, and
it will bring us honey in abundance."

Dick Sand lowered his gun, realizing that a few pounds of honey were
worth more than one bird; and Cousin Benedict and he followed the
bird, which rose and flew away, inviting them to go with it.

They had not far to go, and a few minutes after, some old trunks,
hidden in between the spurges, appeared in the midst of an intense
buzzing of bees.

Cousin Benedict w