Biff watched the tiger. He saw it stretch, arching its back very much like any tomcat. It slowly trotted out of the clearing into the dense undergrowth.
“Tiger’s gone, Chuba. We’ll wait awhile, then let’s take off from here fast.”
Biff had no way of counting the passing minutes. He had left his watch back at Unhao. It would be a fatal error, he knew, if a Chinese beggar boy were spotted wearing a wrist watch. He forced himself to wait. He wanted to be sure that the tiger was long gone to another sleeping spot. The minutes went by as the sounds of the jungle grew louder and louder. Crows added their angry caws to the symphony of sounds coming from herons, silver pheasants, and other birds.
“I think it’s safe now, Chuba. What do you think?”
Biff’s answer was the sound of Chuba scrambling down from his perch.
“Okay, Biff, we go.”
The boys climbed down, dropping the final ten feet to the ground. Chuba opened his bundle and took from it two handfuls of cooked rice. They ate as they took up their trek once again, scooping up a handful of water from the first clear stream they came to.
After traveling an hour, by which time the sweat was pouring off Biff’s body, soaking his ragged clothes, Chuba stopped.
“We’re not far from border now, Biff. Maybe another hour, maybe less, until we get there.”
“And where we cross there won’t be any border guards?” Biff asked.