The immediate business now on hand was food. There was literally nothing for breakfast. The Doctor began to regret his hasty departure from the moth. Indeed it was only now, many, many hours after we had left him in our unceremonious haste to find the tree and explore the new world, that we realized that we had not as yet seen any signs of animal life. Still it seemed a long way to go back and consult him; and it was by no means certain that he would still be there.
Just the same, we needed food and food we were going to find. Hastily we bundled together what things we had unpacked for the night’s camping. Which way to go? Clearly if we had here reached one tree, there must be some direction in which others lay, where we could find that water which the Doctor was so sure must exist. But we could scan the horizon with staring eyes or telescope as much as we wished and not another leaf of a tree could we see.
This time without waiting to be ordered Polynesia soared into the air to do a little scouting.
“Well,” she said on her return, “I don’t see any actual trees at all. The beastly landscape is more like the Sahara Desert than any scenery I’ve ever run into. But over there behind that higher range—the one with the curious hat-shaped peak in the middle—you see the one I mean?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor. “I see. Go on.”
“Well, behind that there is a dark horizon different from any other quarter. I won’t swear it is trees. But myself, I feel convinced that there is something else there besides sand. We had better get moving. It is no short walk.”
Indeed it was no short walk. It came to be a forced march or race between us and starvation. On starting out we had not foreseen anything of the kind. Going off without breakfast was nothing after all. Each one of us had done that before many a time. But as hour after hour went by and still the landscape remained a desert of rolling sand-dunes, hills and dead dry volcanoes, our spirits fell lower and lower.
This was one of the times when I think I saw John Dolittle really at his best. I know, although I had not questioned him, that he had already been beset with anxiety over several matters on the first steps of our march. Later he spoke of them to me: not at the time. And as conditions grew worse, as hunger gnawed at our vitals and the most terrible thirst parched our tongues—as strength and vitality began to give way and mere walking became the most terrible hardship, the Doctor grew cheerier and cheerier. He didn’t crack dry jokes in an irritating way either. But by some strange means he managed to keep the whole party in good mood. If he told a funny story it was always at the right time and set us all laughing at our troubles. In talking to him afterwards about this I learned that he had, when a young man, been employed on more than one exploration trip to keep the expedition in good humor. It was, he said, the only way he could persuade the chief to take him, since at that time he had no scientific training to recommend him.
“Polynesia soared into the air”