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Updated: June 3, 2025
"How do you suppose they sense our approach?" wondered Jim, who had noticed that the menacing jaw-clashing began while they were still fairly far from whatever side entrance was being barred to them. And again: "You're sure they can't see?" "There isn't an eye in the lot of them," said Denny. "They must sense our coming by the vibration of our footsteps."
The guards resumed their interrupted jaw-clashing, which seemed senseless now: the captives, though not paralyzed as were the other captives there, were held so helpless by the dried and hardened fluid that escape was out of the question.
But in this exit the only one accessible to them now the guard had commenced the jaw-clashing that closed openings more efficiently than steel plates could have done. An attempt to pass those enormous mandibles presented no risk; what it presented was suicide. By now the dread war dance had stopped.
Jim and Dennis struggled to turn their heads all of them they could move to see what the cessation of jaw-clashing might mean. Three worker termites squeezed past. They approached one of the line of paralyzed insect hulks, and sank their mandibles into a garden slug. They tugged at this until they had it under the live cistern of red liquid into which the spear had been thrust.
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