In the meantime the colonel’s car had reached the end of the road. Beyond lay the river. Here, under a rocky bank into which an air raid shelter had been cut, he set up temporary headquarters in a tent. This done, with orderly and guard at his heels, he strode away to make some final arrangements for the big push.
Left to themselves, Isabelle and Than Shwe felt their way over a hard-beaten trail to the spot where the road appeared to end at the brink of the river.
“It doesn’t really end,” said Isabelle in great surprise. “There’s a bridge.”
“Part of a bridge.” The little native nurse had sharp eyes.
Soon Isabelle realized that army engineers, working swiftly and silently in the night, were throwing a bridge across the river.
“There are other bridges going up,” said a voice at her elbow. It was the colonel. “Our road winds back and forth across the river.”
“We know that river—you and I,” Than Shwe laughed quietly.
“Boats will be coming down the hill soon, hundreds and hundreds of them. But just now, you and I,”—he touched Isabelle’s arm, “must get out some orders.”
From that time till dawn, under a pale light in a dark corner of the air raid shelter, Isabelle’s portable type-writer clicked.
“There. That will do,” the colonel sighed at last. “The big parade should arrive at any minute now. You girls might like to see it.”