Volume One—Chapter Six.
Central Africa.
“We shall never get round,” said Mark, “just see what a way we have come, and we are not half up one side of the sea yet.”
“I wonder how far it is back to the quarry,” said Bevis. “These sedges are so tiresome.”
“We shall never get round,” said Mark, “and I am getting hungry, and Pan is tired of the rushes too.”
Pan, with his red tongue lolling out at one side of his mouth, looked up, showed his white tusks and wagged his tail at the mention of his name. He had ceased to quest about for some time; he had been walking just at their heels in the path they made.
“We must go on,” said Bevis, “we can’t go back; it is not proper. Travellers like us never go back. I wish there were no more sedges. Come on.”
He marched on again. But now they had once confessed to each other that they were tired, this spurt soon died away, and they stopped again.
“It is as hot as Central Africa,” said Mark, fanning himself with his hat.