“Oh, sure!” Jack smiled. “Spears or clubs?” “Knives,” said Jack. He might have added, “and smiles,” but did not. “What’ll we do about the natives?” Stew asked. “Nothing. At least, not till night. You can’t tell about natives. They must live in a village or a camp.” “Sure. We’ll have to find out where it is.” “We’ll slip around at night and have a look at them.” “Then we’ll know better what we’re up against. That’s a good idea,” Stew agreed. “But when it comes to seeing that screamer, I’m in favor of having a long-distance look in the daytime. If it’s a plane, and they’re Japs or Germans, we’ve got to see what can be done about it.” “We’ll wander up along this side of the ridge after a while,” Jack replied. “That plane, or whatever it is, must be on this side. I think the native village is on the other side. We’ll try to dodge the natives for the present.” Eager to explore the island and solve its mysteries, they were soon working their way along the sloping side of the ridge. Almost at once they came upon a hard-beaten trail that ran along the smoothest portion of the slope. “Native trail,” was Jack’s verdict. “That doesn’t sound too good to me,” said Stew. “We may meet some of those big boys with long spears. They have a playful way of fastening flying squirrels’ teeth to the point of a spear, for barbs. If you do get the spear out, the teeth stay in.” “Look!” Jack stopped suddenly to examine a soft spot in the trail. “Hoof prints!” Stew exclaimed. “But shucks! They’re small. Those animals can’t be very dangerous!” “Can’t they?” Jack laughed. “Little wild boars with long noses and curved ivory tusks. Let me tell you, a palm tree makes pretty tough climbing, but if you ever hear one of those little porkers grunting behind you, you’ll climb one easy enough. We don’t dare fire a shot.” In the end, their fears proved groundless. They walked the length of the slope, some three miles, and came at last to a place where the island sloped away in a series of treeless ledges. On the last ledge, which sloped very gradually into the sea, there was something resembling a plane. Two men were moving about it. Since they were still half a mile away, they could make out very few details of this strange setup. Pulling his companion into the shadow of a rock, Jack unslung his small binoculars for a look. Instantly his lips parted in surprise. “That plane has no propeller!” he exclaimed. “Probably took it off for repairs,” Stew suggested. “Who knows?” Jack was clearly puzzled. “It doesn’t look quite like any plane I ever saw.” “What are the men like?” Stew asked. “Give me a look.” “Huh!” he grunted, when he held the binoculars to his eyes. “White men—not Japs. Not in uniform. Might be anybody.” “Probably German traders who stayed here,” Jack suggested. “These islands were full of them before the war.” “In that case I’m for getting off this island mighty quick!” Stew declared. “How?”