We arrived at the Ministry of Aeronautics and were greeted by the Mini-Secretary.
I had to tell the whole story all over again: that I had an elephant called Dailan Kifki who had flown away with the Fireman riding on his back.
The Mini-Secretary listened to the story in amazement, and said it was the first time such a deed had ever been accomplished in the whole country. He congratulated me for having such an intelligent elephant, he congratulated the Captain for having such a brave Fireman, and he was left with no choice but to congratulate the Superintendent for having such a green parrot. (The Superintendent’s bottom lip had started to quiver because he wasn’t being congratulated, too.)
The Mini-Secretary said the travellers were an honour to the land and advised the Mayor to put Dailan Kifki’s name on some corner, or square, or public boulevard or lane in Buenos Aires.
“Well, then,” said the Mini-Secretary, “I would have no trouble putting a helicopter at your disposal to fly around the sky looking for the fugitives, but since there’s a chance they may have crossed the border and might now be flying in the skies over Chile or some other sister nation of ours, we would do best to alert the embassies of the bordering countries.”
So to cut a long story short: within five minutes we were all on a bus headed for the embassies of Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia, Brazil and—just in case—Peru.
The Ambassadors seemed most interested in the case. They said that if Dailan Kifki and his pilot did happen to be flying in the skies above their respective countries, they would be returned to Argentina with all possible honours and without having to pay customs duties.
“Hang on just a moment,” said one of the Ambassadors. “We’ve forgotten something very important!”
“What have we forgotten, Mister Ambassador?” I asked, slightly alarmed.
“What if they’re flying over sea, what then? And what if they fall in the water?”
He was totally, completely right. There was a possibility that Dailan Kifki and the Fireman would fall into the sea—and they weren’t wearing their swimming trunks or life-vests.
“That’s right,” said the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics. “How did we not think of that? We have to take the bus right away to the Ministry of the Navy and ask them for lifeboats.”
So off we all went—a whole retinue.
The Captain of the Firemen led the way, waving his axe, his hose wrapped around his body like a snake.
After him came the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics, his arms spread wide like a plane, making an engine noise with his mouth.
Then came the Mayor twirling The Keys of Buenos Aires.
And then, in the following order—if I’m not mistaken—came…
The Brazilian ambassador, playing maracas and dancing a samba,
The Bolivian ambassador dancing the carnavalito,
The Uruguayan ambassador dancing the candombe,
The Paraguayan ambassador sucking on an orange and dancing the polka,
The Chilean ambassador tapping out a cueca,
The Peruvian ambassador singing a little huayno at the top of his lungs,
And finally me, awfully embarrassed at the thought that a simple elephant could cause such an outrage here on the street.
We reached the Ministry of the Navy and were met by a most Admirable Admiral, all in white, who looked like he’d just been bathing in milk, chalk and starch.
We explained the situation and he listened very attentively while smoking his pipe and covering us with soap bubbles.
The Admiral made calls on a lot of telephones, scratched his ear and finally, climbing up onto the desk, gave the following speech:
“Your excellencies Misters Ambassadors and other dignitaries here present: this Ministry has no trouble putting at your disposal a number of Navy units to work together towards the rescue of the travellers, but since the aforementioned travellers might have embarked on a journey into space, I would suggest that we first attempt to locate them via the Astronomical Observatory in La Plata.”
I slumped down into a chair. I was beginning to lose hope, but I did have to acknowledge that the Admiral was correct.
We would have to look at the whole sky with a telescope to locate the travellers before going ahead with our plans.
The Admiral very kindly agreed to accompany us to the city of La Plata, and this time he was at the head of the retinue.
We all walked through the centre of town, drawing such attention to ourselves that many more people joined us, so that by the time we reached Constitución we looked more like the crowd pouring out of the Boca stadium after a Sunday game.
Using his whistle, his truncheon and his white gloves, the Superintendent managed to move the busybodies away, and finally we were able to board the train.
But just as it was about to pull out of the station, the Captain counted us and discovered someone was missing.
It was none other than the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics, who was only little and had gone missing in the crowd.
The Captain ran off to fetch him and led him back by the ear. The train was already beginning to move off by the time they boarded.
But as it turned out, our misfortunes had barely begun…