The stone was as hot as an oven bottom, and poor Max felt he would be baked or fried if he stayed there a minute.
Girzilla moved round one of the great bowlders and began scratching away the sand.
“Come and help,” she called out to Max, who was sulking since she had laughed at him.
“The way we must go is under this stone.”
“Under that stone!” repeated Max.
“Yes; there is only a small hole, but we must go through it.”
The girl was right.
The hole was so small that she could only just squeeze herself through, while the madcap declared he would not descend.
“Very well, then, you must save yourself.”
The prospect was not pleasing, and Max managed to follow the girl, though in doing so he tore his clothes and scratched his face.