“Maybe Sahib Charlie,” Chuba shouted.
“Look! Look!” Biff was on his feet, pointing. Now the plane was in sight against the darkening sky. It was coming low. Its green starboard wing light and red port wing light were flashing alternately on and off, on and off.
The plane seemed to be coming directly at them, as if attracted moth-like to their bright fire. It swooped over the boys, so low they both involuntarily ducked. Then the plane circled, roared back over them, and then disappeared over a low ridge to the west. The sound of its twin engines died away.
“I’d bet you anything that was a Cessna. Like the job that brought me to Unhao from Rangoon,” Biff said, his voice filled with excitement.
“You mean like plane that Muscles fix for sahibs back at camp?”
“That’s right, Chuba. Can’t be sure, though.”
“Maybe was scouting plane of army. Maybe was spying on us,” Chuba said.
Biff’s spirits sank. Chuba could be right.
“Think we better get out of here then? Find another place and hide?”
“Might be good idea, Biff. Hate to leave nice warm fire, though.”