“Both planes are fit to fly off at a moment’s notice,” said Ranni, appearing beside Pilescu, very oily and black, his red hair hanging wet and lank over his forehead.
“Ought we to leave anyone on guard?” asked Mike. “Suppose we come back and find that the planes have been damaged?”
Ranni frowned. “We will lock them of course, but I don’t think anyone would damage them. I just hope a herd of elephants doesn’t come and trample through them! We must just leave the planes and hope for the best.”
Pilescu had got ready big packages of food and a few warm clothes and rugs. Paul laughed when he saw the woollen jerseys.
“Good gracious, Pilescu, what are we taking those things for? I’d like to go about in a little pair of shorts and nothing else, like that small boy wears!”
“If we go into the mountains it will be much cooler,” said Pilescu. “You may be glad of jerseys then.”
The day passed slowly by. The children thought it would never end.
“Why is it that time always goes so slowly when you are looking forward to something lovely in the future?” grumbled Mike. “Honestly, this day seems like a week.”
But it passed at last, and the sudden night-time came. Monkeys chattered somewhere around, and big frogs in the washing-pool set up their usual tremendous croaking.
Next day, at dawn, their guide arrived, and behind him, as usual, came the little boy, his nephew, wearing his scanty shorts. The boy wore no hat at all, and the five children wondered why in the world he didn’t get sunstroke.