And his answer puzzled me uncomfortably: "Rather! If they'll let us."
"Who'll let us? The elements?" I asked quickly, with affected indifference.
"The powers of this awful place, whoever they are," he replied, keeping his
eyes on the map. "The gods are here, if they are anywhere at all in the
world."
"The elements are always the true immortals," I replied, laughing as
naturally as I could manage, yet knowing quite well that my face reflected
my true feelings when he looked up gravely at me and spoke across the
smoke:
"We shall be fortunate if we get away without further disaster."
This was exactly what I had dreaded, and I screwed myself up to the point
of the direct question. It was like agreeing to allow the dentist to
extract the tooth; it had to come anyhow in the long run, and the rest was
all pretence.
"Further disaster! Why, what's happened?"
"For one thing--the steering paddle's gone," he said quietly.
"The steering paddle gone!" I repeated, greatly excited, for this was our
rudder, and the Danube in flood without a rudder was suicide. "But what--"
"And there's a tear in the bottom of the canoe," he added, with a genuine
little tremor in his voice.
I continued staring at him, able only to repeat the words in his face
somewhat foolishly. There, in the heat of the sun, and on this burning
sand, I was aware of a freezing atmosphere descending round us. I got up to
follow him, for he merely nodded his head gravely and led the way towards
the tent a few yards on the other side of the fireplace.
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