agency's been closed for repairs but where's the river got to? It
couldn't have gone underground."
He was longing to get the river and hunt for the steamer's tracks
along its banks and stand on the spot where the gangway had been lowered
and recall exactly how everything had happened. You see, you always feel
better when you remember something pleasant. And, besides, Alex still had
a tiny glimmer of hope left. The steamer just might turn up, after all,
for all sorts of wonderful things can happen in fairy-tales.
He walked on for at least another hour and could now only just make
out the town on the horizon behind him. The grass was swaying all around
but there was still no sign of the river.
"No, I'll never make it," he realised and felt so miserable that he
could not walk a step further. He stopped and (to tell you the truth)
almost burst into tears. I say "almost" because the tears welled up in
his eyes and hung on his lashes and silver spots of sunlight flared up in
them. Alex blinked angrily to shake them off and they vanished. All
except one - a brilliant little star which soared up and began sparkling
in the bright-blue sky.
Alex blinked again and again but the white spark blazed even more
brightly high above. Then all of a sudden he heard a quiet but distinct
whirring noise breaking through the silence, chirring grasshoppers and
rustling grass.
Alex's heart leapt. He ran towards the spark, stopped for a moment
then ran on again. The silver spark was getting bigger and bigger and
growing delicate dragonfly wings.
"The Pilot..." Alex whispered joyfully. "Why, it's the Pilot!"
He could see the plane getting bigger and bigger as it came straight
towards him.
"What a good thing it is I put my sailor suit on," he thought. "The
Pilot would never have spotted me in the grass in my green shirt!"
And then Alex became frightened for it suddenly occurred to him that
the Pilot might not recognise him in his ironed suit!
So he rushed towards the plane, found a place where the grass was
slightly shorter, fell flat on his back and stretched out his arms in a
letter "T".
Blades of grass were fluttering over his face and the sun was
dazzling his eyes, but even so through grass and rays of sunlight he
caught sight of a large slender-winged bird swooping down straight
towards him from a great height: it was the plane belonging to the little
Pilot, Anton Topolkov.
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