“Um big storm coming,” he said with a frown.
“A storm?” breathed Bob. “Do you think it will be here today?”
Noko nodded, his face grave.
“Um storm him not wait,” the tall African said. “Storm come much soon. Sky it getting dark.”
Indeed, the signs were most threatening. The distant horizon was colored a sickly yellow, which seemed to shine ominously. Dark clouds were forming overhead and were joining slowly but surely.
“It certainly looks bad,” murmured Mr. Lewis. “We must find shelter somewhere. Where do you suggest going, Noko?”
“We find um cave or um-um hollow,” returned the head native. “That only way we get out from um storm.”
A weird silence hovered about. Birds had ceased their calls; monkeys were no longer chattering in the trees. Not the slightest suggestion of a wind played through the leaves.
Under the leadership of Noko they searched about desperately for some place that would serve as a refuge from the approaching storm. But as time passed they were still moving through the forest as before.