Risk Does No Harm

Next morning. The bus terminal in Quito.

A bus leaves for Riobamba every fifteen minutes.

The trip takes four hours.

This should be quite scenic, says Simon. We pass several volcanoes.

Great, says Tilly.

Brilliant, says Lydia.

Awesome, says Buzz.

I know you're hung over, says Simon.

So are these two, says Gaius, indicating Sweezus and Arthur.

Sweezus and Arthur look green.

So does Saint Roley, for a different reason.

Terence is fine, but smells faintly of fish glue.

The bus comes. They all climb on.

The bus winds through the streets of Quito and out into the spectacular country.

By the way, we're invited to dinner at Maldonado's, says Gaius.

Is it formal? asks Simon.

No no, says Gaius. His children own frogs.

Saint Roley had been staring out of the window at mountains, and stones.

But now he starts sobbing.

He is, by good or bad luck, sitting next to Arthur.

What? says Arthur.

Nothing, sniffs Saint Roley. It was the mention of frogs. I recalled the recent fate of our own Growling Grass Frog, which reminded me of my brother, whose fate I now know.

What was the fate? asks Arthur.

The long or the short version? asks Saint Roley.

Arthur looks out of the window at mountains, gullies, vegetation and various stones.

Long version, says Arthur.

She didn't give me the long version, says Saint Roley. She said it would be too distressing.

Who did? asks Arthur.

The Virgin of Quito. I exchanged specially packaged Sea Salt for the information.

Arthur nudges Sweezus, behind whom he is sitting.

I'm listening says Sweezus. What packaging?

Gaius gave me a sheet of his notepaper, covered in frog notes. She was delighted.

Cool idea, says Sweezus.

I thought so, says Gaius, who is sitting next to Sweezus.

So what was the short version? asks Arthur.

He drowned, says Saint Roley. It's official.

And that's all you got? says Arthur.

Yes, says Saint Roley. It now seems like not such a good deal.

It wasn't, says Arthur. You didn't get details.

Saint Roley breaks back into tears.

Everyone looks out of the window at mountains and volcanoes, stones and gullies. A train appears, zigzagging up a mountain, in the distance.

See that train, says Simon. At one time you could sit on the roof for the journey to Riobamba, but they stopped it.

Shame, says Gaius. A bit of risk does no harm.

Arthur's arm is wet. When will Saint Roley stop crying?