Then he took up his violin and played again. Though his strings were muted, the low melodies carried far in the still night. It was during the playing of his last piece that two figures appeared on the ledge far above him. Standing there in the moonlight, their light garments turned them into ghosts. Realizing this, perhaps, they moved back into the shadow of a great rock, but still they lingered. All unconscious of this, Jack played on. Then suddenly he was wakened from his dream by a wild shout from Stew, a cry of pain and fright. The two figures on the rocks darted away so quickly that they loosened a stone which went tumbling down to stop with a crash a short distance from the spot where Jack sat. “Stew! What’s up?” “It was a Jap!” Stew exclaimed. “He tried to carve me up.” “A Jap!” Jack laughed as he came dashing up. “There wasn’t any Jap. Couldn’t have been. I would have seen him.” “But look! My ear is bleeding!” Stew rubbed his ear. After a hasty glance up the rocky ridge Jack turned on his flashlight. “Here’s your Jap,” he laughed. He pointed to a huge land crab with pincers six inches long. “He was looking for something soft.” Jack seized the crab by its back and tossed it far up on the slope. “All the same,” Jack snapped off the light. “There was something up there on that ridge, and it wasn’t a crab.” “Why? How do you know?” Stew’s voice was low. “A rock came tumbling down. Thought I caught a flash of something white. I might have been mistaken.” “We’ve got to watch our step.” Stew spoke in a solemn tone. “We sure must,” Jack agreed. But something more than the thought of danger was troubling Jack at this moment. “If we don’t get off this island in a day or two,” he said gloomily, “we’re almost sure to miss the Big Show.” “Oh, yes,” Stew breathed. “Say! That’s right!” “And I’d about as soon be dead as to miss that.” Jack’s gloom deepened. Occasionally during his watch, when he listened in vain for the sound of a rescue plane, the thought of the “Big Show” and the part he wanted to play in it became a definite goal. Only the night before, the ship’s commander had said to him, “We’ve got a little job to do down south of here. Then, I hope, we’re due to join the big push for the grandest show of all.” Yes! The “Big Show”! Whispers had gone around the ship. For two whole weeks rumors had been crystallizing into facts. They would join other task forces, a dozen carriers, some big battle wagons, a hundred—perhaps two hundred—fighting ships, scores of transports and cargo ships, as well as many fast PT boats. Then all together, with the greatest fighting force the world had ever known, they would go after Mindanao. And what was Mindanao? For the fiftieth time Jack got out a map, and flashing his pinpoint light on a spot said: “There it is, one of the largest of the Philippine Islands.” “MacArthur said he’d go back, and now we’re going,” Stew said soberly.