suddenly it was all right and
the weight went from his chest.
It was morning and had been
morning for some time and he
heard the plane. It showed very
tiny and then made a wide
circle and the boys ran out and
lit the fires, using kerosene,
and piled on grass so there
were two big smudges at each
end of the level place and the
morning breeze blew them
toward the camp and the plane
circled twice more, low this
time, and then glided down and
levelled off and landed
smoothly and, coming walking
toward him, was old Compton
in slacks, a tweed jacket and a
brown felt hat.
"What's the matter, old cock?"
Compton said.
"Bad leg," he told him. "Will
you have some breakfast?"
"Thanks. I'll just have some
tea. It's the Puss Moth you
know. I won't be able to take
the Memsahib. There's only
room for one. Your lorry is on
the way."
Helen had taken Compton
aside and was speaking to him.
Compton came back more
cheery than ever.
"We'll get you right in," he
said. "I'll be back for the Mem.
Now I'm afraid I'll have to stop
at Arusha to refuel. We'd better
get going."
"What about the tea?"
"I don't really care about it, you
know."
The boys had picked up the cot
and carried it around the green
tents and down along the rock
and out onto the plain and
along past the smudges that
were burning brightly now, the
grass all consumed, and the
wind fanning the fire, to the
little plane. It was difficult
getting him in, but once in he
lay back in the leather seat, and
the leg was stuck straight out to
one side of the seat where
Compton sat. Compton started
the motor and got in. He waved
to Helen and to the boys and,
as the clatter moved into the
old familiar roar, they swung
JOY FEELINGS | DECEMBER ISSUE
277