Dingo said gruffly, and Henry was reminded of his father’s observation that he was not a morning person ’til he’d had his coffee. Resolutely he pushed the thought of coffee and food away, trying to ignore the gnawing pit of his stomach. “What do we do now?” “We have to keep Hodges away from the tigers.” Henry’s question seemed to have the effect of sharpening Dingo’s wits, although not his stomach, which grumbled ominously. “And we need some food.” Henry nodded. “Should we circle back to our camp?” “Probably not the best plan. I doubt Hodges could find it on his own, but for him to have followed us this deep and high onto the mountain, his guide has to have some skill.” Henry could barely see Dingo’s face, but he could hear the grim tone in his voice. “So we’re dodging two men out there.” “Maybe more, but first things first. We need some breakfast.” Dingo moved to block the light coming from the entrance, presenting Henry with a splendid view of his arse, if it hadn’t been to dark to see or if Henry had been in the mood.
