“If he likes mud-flavored boy, I’m his dish,” Biff thought.
Biff heard the chilling sound of teeth gnashing together
After traveling for six hours with only brief rest breaks, the boys were bone weary. Biff figured it must be midnight or a little after. They had reached a small clearing, a circle about thirty feet across. Toward one side a single ironwood tree rose high above the surrounding underbrush.
“We stop here for the night,” Chuba said. “You ever sleep in a tree?”
“Once. Didn’t find it very comfortable though. Do we have to?”
“Is much better. This tree has nice big limbs. Find good crotch, settle in it, and sleep real good. Too many animals on the ground. Animals and insects. Big ants, geckos, even wild pigs. You know gecko? Is big, slimy lizard. Wild pigs don’t care who they eat. And ants sting real bad. Much better in tree.”
Chuba stood at the base of the tree. “You give me push up to first limb. Then I can give you my hand to pull you up. Come on.”
Biff didn’t reply, or move. His eyes were intent on a vine that hung down from one of the higher limbs. It seemed to sway slightly. But there was no breeze.
“Back, Chuba! Back!” Biff shouted.