“It will be keen if they find Ted and his plane in this rain,” said Stew. “That way, if his plane is still afloat, we can tow it ashore and hide it in some cove without being seen by the Japs or the Germans. And then! Boy! If that plane can be made to fly we’ll leave your little old island, Mary Brown, and we’ll take you along!” “That sounds wonderful to me,” she laughed. “I’ll become the mascot of your carrier, or maybe its jinx.” “I’m leaving the island in that jet plane.” Jack did not laugh. “How will you manage it?” Mary asked soberly. “Don’t know yet,” Jack admitted. “But you wait! We’ll manage it some way. It just has to be done!” In a surprisingly short time Mary had her natives in their canoes around the end of the island and ready to undertake the search. CHAPTER XXII STAR OF THE MIST For an hour, with the brown natives bending their stout backs to send the canoes shooting forward, they glided along through the mist. It was not raining hard—only a fine spray coming down. They were soaked to the skin, but no one minded that for the air was warm. Jack really enjoyed it. For a time at least they were free from danger. The war seemed unreal and far away. It was as if they had left it behind forever, and he almost wished he had! He thought of the folks at home, of his father working harder than ever because there was a war, of his mother doing her own work, helping the Red Cross and selling bonds in a booth on Saturdays. It was all very strange how a war started by a few very stupid men could change the lives of more than half the people in the world—strange and terrible. “Look!” Mary exclaimed suddenly. “A star!” “Where?” Jack looked up. “Not up. Over there!” she pointed. “You wouldn’t see a star through the mist in the daytime. You must be dreaming,” Jack protested. “But look! Look closely! It’s rather faint, but quite real. A white star!” She was leaning forward, straining her eyes as if looking for a vision. “Yes,” he agreed at last. “I see it.” “Star of hope,” she murmured. “If you’d lived on that island for two years as I have, you’d know what that means.” “Two years! You haven’t been there that long! It’s impossible!” He stared at her in unbelief. “Is it?” She laughed. “In this war anything is possible. Listen!” Her face tensed with memories. “I was on Corregidor when we surrendered to those terrible Japs.” “Corregidor?” Jack gasped. “Corregidor in the Philippines? Say!” His voice dropped. “That’s where the _Black Bee_, our carrier, is headed for next.” “Corregidor!” It was her turn to stare. “Well, not Corregidor just yet, but the Philippines—Mindanao, to be exact.” “Oh! Take me with you!” she exclaimed softly. “We’re not on board ship yet,” he smiled. “We’re just hoping. But say!” he exclaimed. “How’d you ever get way over here? Tell me about it, will you?”