“Can we get to his hangar?” Stan asked.
“We can go to the field where he keeps his flying machine and his elephants. It is across the village from the Japanese field where they keep their war machines. Te Nuwa and the general are always quarreling about it. The general says he will make a field of his own out of it,” Niva explained.
“I’d like to know where the Jap flying field is, too,” Stan said eagerly. Even though he was in danger he was, first of all, a soldier and alert for information.
“It is mostly in the jungle where the big machines can hide, but there is a wide road for them to run on when they leave or come in. I will show you.” Niva seemed willing enough to help, even to giving information.
She led the way out of the shed and down a dark lane which ended in a street lighted by a few lamps stuck on poles. The street was crowded with people. The girl caught Stan’s arm.
“We must not hurry. We go slowly. I will answer if we are spoken to. I am dressed as a low-caste boy and you may well pass as my father.” Niva pulled her white robe around her with one hand. Her dark eyes peered out at the passing people.
Stan pulled his robe around him and held it. They moved down the street slowly. It teemed with dark-skinned people dressed in garments of flaming colors. Dark-eyed women looked lazily down from tottering, wooden balconies. Guttering tallow lamps and flaring torches half illuminated the interiors of shops and dwellings, giving Stan a fleeting glimpse of life in a Siamese village. The street was narrow and crooked. They were jostled as they moved along, but no one gave them even a second glance. Stan saw no soldiers and no police.
They followed the street for a quarter of a mile, then turned off into a darkened lane shaded by big trees. Niva looked up at Stan. She had let her robe fall back and he saw she was dressed in a modern gown.
“I took you through the native quarter of the town because it is not open to the Japanese soldier yet,” she explained.
“Aren’t the Japanese your people?” Stan asked.