“The rooster came later,” Stew sighed. “He was a dandy! But he refused to be caught. So—o,” Stew sighed once more, “I decided on fish for supper. And one thing more,” he grinned. “While you played the violin, I saw two huge, dark-skinned men with six-foot spears all set along the points with flying squirrels’ teeth. They were looking up at you. They didn’t spear you, did they?” “It’s a wonder they didn’t let me have it!” “Probably thought they might injure the violin,” Stew chuckled. “Come on. Let’s go down.” In silence they trudged down the ridge and through the shadowy forest. They approached their camp in the bright afterglow, and in that sudden burst of light Jack thought he caught a glimpse of a figure darting into the shadows of a great mango tree. He could not be sure, so he tramped on in silence. “I’ll bet you were so lost in your dreams you never even heard that jet plane return,” said Stew. “That’s right. I didn’t,” Jack admitted. “Did it really come in?” “It sure did. And do you know,” Stew said thoughtfully, “their landing was so different from the one they made the other day that you’d have said another pilot was at the stick. He made two false landings, then zoomed up, and finally seemed to come in straight from the sea.” “But he made it?” Jack was puzzled. “I suppose so. I didn’t see him land. He—” “Look!” Stew’s voice fell to an excited whisper. “There’s a glow of coals in our fireplace!” “Can’t be!” Jack was incredulous. “I remember putting the fire out.” “It’s burning now, all right,” Stew insisted. And so it was. There was a fire, and something more, besides. When the boys reached the spot they stood gazing in speechless astonishment, for there, held over the fire by an impromptu spit of teakwood, was a roast of pork loin, done to a delicious brown and sizzling in its own fat. Beside it, kept warm on a rack close to the fire, was a stack of brown cakes. “Brownies,” Jack whispered. “Dark brownies. Natives,” Stew murmured. “Brownies, all the same!” Jack insisted. Stew tossed his catch upon a rock. “How’d you like to wait until tomorrow for your fish?” “Suits me,” said Jack. The fish did wait, and the two boys sat down to enjoy a feast such as they had not eaten in months. “Do you know, Stew,” Jack said as he reclined against a rock, with the blue-black sea before him, “I think we picked the wrong party to help us get off this island.” “What do you mean?” Stew sat up. “Those natives have some swell outrigger canoes that would take us to some other island in less than an hour,” Jack confided. “I saw them. They’re really fast.” “And then we’d just be on another island,” Stew drawled. “What I want is to be sitting on the flight deck of our ship hearing the engines warming up. Or I’d like to be down below where jazz music and radios make night hilarious on the old _Black Bee_.” “All the same, I’d feel better if I were sure I could leave this island in a hurry if I needed to,” Jack insisted.