“Tell you what, André,” Slim whispered. “Suppose we go try this out somewhere?”
For the next hour, in the dimly lit springhouse, André enjoyed himself more than he had for weeks. And when Slim said, “Time for bed now,” André had learned half of Slim’s pet song, which was something about Texas.
Next morning, André found that a thick fog, almost a drizzle, hung over the treetops. The soft gray mist hid the harsh destruction of the landscape.
André went out to find Raoul at work patching the Coty roof. “Just help me with this thatch, will you?” Raoul called.
André gladly climbed up the old ladder with an armful of straw while Raoul chattered.
But a moment later he stopped listening to Raoul’s talk. Somewhere in the fog, he had detected the uncertain throbbing of a plane’s engine.
André had learned half of Slim’s pet song
He sat still to follow the sound. The plane was flying in wide circles, steadily coming in lower.
In a drift of the mist, André caught a glimpse of the markings—a white star.