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There was a long silence. Then Eakins’ voice, low-pitched and calm, came over the walkie-talkie.

“We’ll speak with you again later,” Eakins said. “We must take consultation now and decide what to do with you.”

“Eakins!”

There was no answer from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

IV

Returning to their camp, the men were in a mood of thorough depression. They couldn’t understand what had happened to Eakins and they didn’t feel like speculating on it. The ravaging afternoon sun beat down, reflecting heat back from the white sand. The damp jungle steamed, and appeared to creep toward them like a huge and sleepy green dragon, trapping them against the indifferent sea. Gun barrels grew too hot to touch, and the water in the canteens was as warm as blood. Overhead, thick gray cumulus clouds began to pile up; it was the beginning of the monsoon season.

Drake sat in the shade of the copra shed. He shook off his lethargy long enough to inspect the camp from the viewpoint of defense. He saw the encircling jungle as enemy territory. In front of it was an area fifty yards deep which they had cleared. This no man’s land could perhaps be defended for a while.