“That’s why they’re messing about down there on those wet rocks,” said Philip, grinning. “They think that that is our hiding-place, behind the fall, and they want to get there and find us. They don’t guess that isn’t the right way. I can’t for the life of me see how they can possibly get behind the water from any of those rocks in front. If they’re not jolly careful, they’ll get swept off by the water — and down they’ll go like lightning.”
Lucy-Ann shuddered. “I don’t want to see them do that,” she said, and wouldn’t peep out of the ferns any more.
But Dinah and the boys watched in glee. They felt safe up there in their fern-hidden cave, and it was fun to watch the two men slipping about on the rocks near the water, getting angrier and angrier.
Kiki was still behind the waterfall, watching them in interest. Suddenly she gave one of her dreadful cackles of laughter, and the men heard it even through the roar of the water. They looked at one another, startled.
“Hear that?” said Juan. “Somebody yelling their heads off, laughing at us. Wait till I get them, that’s all. They must be just behind the sheet of water. How do they get there?”
It was impossible to get behind the waterfall from above or below. Quite impossible. The men realised this after they had fallen many times, and once almost slipped off a wet rock into the cascading water itself. They sat down on a ledge a good way from the water and mopped their heads. They were hot and angry, and their clothes were soaked.
They were puzzled, too. Where had those boys come from? Was there a whole camp of people somewhere? Were they hiding in the mountains? No, that could not be so, for they would have seen them roving the countryside in search of food. There could only be a few people. They must have sent out the boys to seek for food.
The children watched them in delight. There was something very enjoyable in seeing their enemies at a loss, in being able to see their every action and yet not be seen themselves. Even Lucy-Ann had another peep now that she knew they were no longer slipping about by the waterfall.
“We’d better go,” said Juan. “If that’s their hiding-place, they can keep it. We’d better get somebody else here to help us. We could put him to guard this place. If he sat here, he could see if anyone came up to get behind the water. Come on, I’m fed up with this.”
They stood up. Jack watched them through the fern-fronds. Were they going back to their hut, or to the plane, perhaps? Then, seeing that they were going to pass rather near to the cave, the boy hastily closed the fronds and pushed the others back.
“Keep quiet,” he said. “They may come fairly near.”
They came extremely near. They took a way that led them right past the cave itself. The children sat as still as stone, hearing the men scrambling along outside. Suddenly the fern swayed and shook, and Lucy-Ann’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle a scream.
“They’re coming in, they’ve found us!” she thought, and her heart almost stopped beating. The fern rustled again, and then was quiet. The footsteps passed, and the voices of the two men were heard saying something the children could not hear.
“Have they gone?” wondered Dinah, and, looking at Jack, she raised her eyebrows. He nodded. Yes — they were gone — but what a terrible fright everyone had had when they grasped hold of the fern to help them along! Little did Juan and Pepi dream that four silent children sat within two feet of them then.
Jack parted the fern again. There was no sign of the men. He felt sure they must have gone back, but he did not date to go out and spy. “Better lie low for a bit,” he said. “We’ll have a meal. I’ll creep out and spy around later on. Where’s Kiki?”
Nobody knew. Then Dinah remembered she had been with them behind the waterfall. They had gone back without her in their anxiety to warn the boys about the two men. She must still be there.
“Blow! We’d better go and fetch her,” said Jack. “I don’t really feel like moving just now, either — I’m really tired with dragging that heavy sack along so far.”
A voice spoke outside the cave . . . a gloomy, dismal, reproachful voice.
“Poor Kiki! All alone! What a pity, what a Kiki, poor pity!”
The children laughed, and Jack parted the fronds cautiously, in case by any chance the men were still anywhere about. Kiki clambered through, looking very sorry for herself. She flew to Jack’s shoulder and nibbled his ear gently.
“All aboard!” she said more cheerfully, and cracked her beak. Dinah ruffled up the feathers on her head.
“Kiki must have flown out from behind the waterfall and come straight here,” she said. “Clever Kiki! Clever old bird!”
“God save the King,” said Kiki. “Wipe your feet!”
Jack’s tin-opener came out again, and a choice of tins and jars was made. There was a small tin of biscuits still to be finished, and the children chose some pressed meat to go with them, and a large tin of juicy apricots. Jack opened the fronds just a little to let in enough daylight to see by. Once again they thoroughly enjoyed their meal, and Kiki got into trouble for taking more than her fair share of apricots.
The children waited some time before they dared to creep out of the cave. When the sun was well down, Jack clambered out between the fronds, and had a good look round. There was no sign of the men at all. Jack found a high place from which, if he sat there, he could see for a good way in any direction.
“We’ll take it in turns to keep watch,” he said. “You can come in half an hour, Philip.”
They had a fine time clambering all about. They found some wild raspberries, and ate great quantities of them. They were delicious. Kiki ate them too, murmuring “Mmmmmmmm” all the time.
Each of them took turn at keeping watch, but there was nothing to see. The sun went down behind the mountains, and twilight came. They all went back to the cave.
“It will be lovely to sleep here tonight,” said Lucy-Ann, pleased. “This moss is so nice and soft. Like velvet.”
She stroked it. It felt like velvet too. She helped Dinah to put down macks and a rug to lie on, and made pillows of pullovers and jerseys.
“A drink of apricot juice and a few biscuits for everyone,” said Dinah, as they all sat down on the “bed.” She handed out the biscuits. Jack parted the fern-fronds and tied them firmly back.
“Must have a little air in the cave,” he said. “It will get jolly stuffy with four of us here.”
“Five,” said Dinah. “Don’t forget Kiki.”
“Six,” said Philip, producing the lizard. “Don’t forget dizzy Lizzie.”
“Oh, I really hoped you’d lost her,” said Dinah crossly. “I haven’t seen her all day.”
They finished their biscuits and lay down. It was quite dark now outside. Their “bed” felt warm and soft. They all snuggled down, making nice cosy places for themselves.
“I should really enjoy all this, if only I knew that Mother wasn’t worrying about us,” said Philip, pulling the rug over him. “I haven’t any idea at all where we are, but it’s a very beautiful place. Doesn’t that waterfall sound lovely, singing in the night?”
“It’s singing jolly loudly,” said Jack, yawning. “But I don’t think it will keep me awake. Oh, Kiki, do move off my middle. I can’t imagine why you will keep perching there at night. Go on one of my feet.”
“Wipe your feet,” ordered Kiki, and flew to Jack’s right foot. She put her head under her wing.
“Tomorrow Philip and I must go to that cave of echoes you told us about and stand behind the waterfall,” said Jack. “Fancy you girls having a little adventure like that all on your own!”
“Little adventure!” said Lucy-Ann. “Why, it was a jolly big one — especially when we suddenly saw that we were just behind that waterfall!”
Dinah was very much afraid that Lizzie would run over her during the night, and lay awake some time expecting the feel of tiny feet. But Lizzie was curled up in Philip’s armpit, tickling him dreadfully when she moved.
Lucy-Ann was asleep almost at once, and soon the others were too. The waterfall roared all through the night without ceasing. The wind sprang up and moved the big fronds of the fern. A fox or some other creature came sniffing up to the cave entrance, was alarmed at the smell of humans there and fled away silently.