His uncle spoke with Ranni, but Ranni shook his head. The children could quite well guess what was happening — the man was asking to be paid, and Ranni was being determined. In the end the guide agreed to go with them once more, and Ranni promised to tell him where the money was as soon as they reached the Secret Mountain.
It was a good thing that their guide went with them, for the way he led them was one which they would never have found for themselves. It was a hidden way, so that the little company would not be seen by any watchers on the Secret Mountain.
Ranni and Pilescu had had no idea that there was this hidden path to the mountain. They would have tried to lead the party across the valley, over marshy ground, or through such thickly growing bushes that it would have been almost impossible to make their way through.
As it was, the tribesman avoided these, and took them to a narrow river, not much more than a large stream, that flowed along swiftly towards the mountain. This stream was almost completely covered in by bushes and trees that met above the water, making a kind of green tunnel, below which the river gurgled and bubbled.
“Golly! What an exciting river!” cried Jack, thrilled to see the dim green tunnel. “How are we going to get along? Is it shallow enough to wade down the stream?”
“In parts it would be, but I don’t fancy doing that,” said Pilescu. “What is the fellow doing — and Mafumu too? I believe they are making rough rafts for us!”
“What fun!” cried Paul, and he ran to watch the two workers.
Mafumu was busy bringing armfuls of stuff that looked rather like purple cork to his uncle. He had got it from a marshy piece of ground. It smelt horrible.
“Is it cork?” said Paul.
“No — it looks more like some sort of fungus, or enormous toadstool,” said Pilescu. “Look at his uncle binding it together with creeper-ropes!”