The Hunting Wasps 



turning, while we looked about us, had re- 

 duced me to the plight of a person whose eyes 

 are bandaged and who is then made to spin 

 round on his heels. I had lost all sense of 

 direction; I had not the least idea which was 

 the southern slope. I questioned this man 

 and that; opinions were divided and most un- 

 certain. The upshot was that not one of us 

 could say where the north lay and where the 

 south. Never in all my life had I realized 

 the value of the points of the compass as I 

 did at that moment. All around us was the 

 mystery of the grey haze ; beneath our feet 

 we could just make out the beginning of a 

 slope here and a slope there. But which was 

 the right one? We had to make a choice 

 and to launch out boldly. If, by bad luck, 

 we went down the northern slope, we risked 

 breaking our bones over the precipices the 

 sight of which had but now filled us with 

 dread. Perhaps not one of us would survive 

 it. I passed a few minutes of acute perplex- 

 ity. 



" Let's stay here," said the majority, " and 

 wait till the rain stops." 



" That's bad advice," replied the others, of 

 whom I was one, " that's bad advice : the 

 rain may last a long while; and, wet through 

 224 



