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hope we can finish the meal on our table before we move.”
    â€œYes, by the time we are finished with our meal, surviving the forest will be the least of our worries, because food gives strength,” Philip replied with a smile.

CHAPTER 2
Rumble in the Jungle

    Once the meal was eaten, Philip and the other ants prepared to storm the forest. One after the other, they set off in file behind Philip who seemed to be optimistic that they would find the dead creature and would not return to the anthill empty handed. Yet, only time would tell. The night was as dead as a doornail. And it was not the best time to venture into the woods, except for extreme reasons. After walking along winding paths for a long time, always facing in the direction of the smell, the ants finally found the dead creature, which was an antelope behind a tree. But misfortune waited amidst the boughs and leaves.
    It was determined that the antelope must have died from bullet wounds at the hands of people who hunt animals for food. Philip and his friends had a good sniff around to make sure that no one was lurking. After determining that there was nothing to fear in the woods, they heaved a sigh of relief, for it was time to get down to work. One after the other, the ants bit a large chunk of meat off and made their way in single file along the bush paths back to the anthill.
    As soon as they got to the anthill, Bojo rushed to Philip and said, “Phil, we need more hands.”
    â€œSo what do you suggest?” Philip asked and crossed his arm over his body.
    â€œWe have ants that are now robust due to months of inactivity; getting them involved in this work will certainly put them in shape.”
    Philip spoke softly, “You are right. I have also given it thought. But I still have a feeling of caution for the forest. So, I want to control the risk. To do so, it would be advisable to venture into the forest with fewer ants.”
    Bojo pondered his words and said, “Well, your approach is a wise one. Let’s see how things pan out at the end of the day.”
    Without wasting time, Bojo and Philip joined the other ants at the door and faded into the night to continue the task where they had left it. They worked as if there was no tomorrow. After five trips in the midst of the silent night, they were finally greeted by a sad tale. As the ants mounted the antelope to grab what they could carry to their camp, they were alerted by a sound that was like a rushing wind. “What is that?” Philip enquired. He raised his head and looked about.
    â€œI don’t know,” Bojo said. “But it’s like a rushing wind!”
    â€œWind? You must be joking, Bojo. We would have been swept off our feet by now,” Paul told the others and giggled.
    Fred heaved. “It means no harm. It is one of those things that hide in the shadows of a dark night. Let us forget about it and continue our business,” he said.
    â€œI disagree. We must find out what is lurking. Or we might as well bid the world farewell,” Philip suggested. He jumped down from the dead creature and raced forward to check what had caused the commotion. Philip had covered only a short distance when he saw floodwaters cutting through the forest and advancing towards them. It was a dreadful sight to behold! He gasped and choked. The ant turned and faced back to their camp shouting at the top of his voice, “The dam is overflowing! Run for your lives!”
    Even knowing how difficult it was to survive such a peril, Bojo, Fred and Paul did not make the best use of their legs to the anthill. They might be caught in the flood and perish before help would come. In desperation, they climbed one of the mango trees. But Phillip’s six legs betrayed him as he tripped and fell three times. Before he could make it to a tree, the flood had swept him off his feet. He was carried away. Bojo and the other ants had no choice but to remain on the tree until the