He turned away quickly, beckoning his team after him, and headed up the beach. By keeping to the shadows at the jungle’s edge, they remained under cover and at the same time had light enough to see where they were going. Each man scanned the jungle growth nearest him for any slim, straight young tree that might serve to support the catamaran’s sail. Bamboo, of course, would be the best, but that could only be found in the interior. They had gone no more than five hundred yards when Barry halted, with a sharp hiss of warning. “I heard voices,” he whispered, “ahead of us and to the left.... There! Did you hear that, Chick?” “Jap talk!” muttered the little bombardier. “Look! Isn’t that the mouth of a creek just beyond us? I think that’s where they are.” “You’re right, old Eagle-eye!” the skipper exclaimed. “Follow me, and don’t make a sound. I want to see what’s going on.” The voices grew louder as they advanced. The Japs, it appeared, were some little distance up the creek. From the sounds, Barry judged that they were loading something into a boat. He found a little trail bordering the creek bank, and followed it. Where the trail bent sharply to the left, he saw the flicker of flashlights. Less than a hundred feet away, two Jap motor launches were drawn up to the bank. Both were partly filled with soldiers. One of them was still half covered with the camouflage net that had concealed it during the day. Into the other launch someone, probably an officer, was being loaded on a stretcher. The Japs, Barry knew, lost interest in an ordinary soldier the moment he fell sick or wounded, and abandoned him promptly. This looked like a general exodus from the island. If that were the case it could mean only one thing: The bombing raid had smashed every installation of value at the air base, including the radio. It must have killed most of the personnel, too. These thirty or forty men could be only a small part of the air field’s ground forces. As the last soldier jumped in, the motors of both launches sputtered into life. In wondering silence the American fliers watched their enemies disappear around the bend, heading out to sea. “Do you really think that’s the last of ’em?” Hap Newton asked. “It doesn’t seem possible that we’re the only ones alive on the island. And yet, why would _two_ boatloads of Japs clear out if they just wanted to send for help?” “There’s just one way to make sure what has happened,” Barry Blake responded. “We’ll follow this trail to the airfield and see for ourselves. If the Japs have abandoned the island it won’t be for long, but I should enjoy a chance to look the place over.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE PATCHED WINGS IN THE DAWN