"Do you really think we have a chance?" Sorensen asked. "Sure we do. We've got a damned good chance." "Be realistic," Sorensen said. "The longer this goes on, the more animals the Quedak can throw against us. What can we do about it?" "Hunt him out and kill him." "The damned thing is about the size of your thumb," Sorensen said irritably. "How can we hunt him?" "We'll figure out something," Drake said. He was beginning to get worried about Sorensen. The morale among the men was low enough without Sorensen pushing it down further. "I wish someone would shoot that damned bird," Sorensen said, glancing overhead. About every fifteen minutes, the bird of paradise came darting down for a closer look at the camp. Then, before the guard had a chance to fire, he swept back up to a safe altitude. "It's getting on my nerves, too," Drake said. "Maybe that's what it's supposed to do. One of these times we'll--" He stopped abruptly. From the copra shed he could hear the loud hum of a radio. And he heard Al Cable saying, "Hello, hello, this is Vuanu calling. We need help." Drake and Sorensen went into the shed. Cable was sitting in front of the transmitter, saying into the microphone, "Emergency, emergency, Vuanu calling, we need--" "What in hell do you think you're doing?" Drake snapped. * * * * * Cable turned and looked at him, his pudgy pink body streaked with sweat. "I'm radioing for help, that's what I'm doing. I think I've picked up somebody. But they haven't answered me yet." He readjusted the tuning. Over the receiver, they could hear a bored British voice saying, "Pawn to Queen four, eh? Why don't you ever try a different opening?" There was a sharp burst of static. "Just move," a deep bass voice answered. "Just shut up and move." "Sure," said the British voice. "Knight to king bishop three." Drake recognized the voices. They were ham radio operators. One of them owned a plantation on Bougainville; the other was a shopkeeper in Rabaul. They came on the air for an hour of chess and argument every evening. Cable tapped the microphone impatiently. "Hello," he said, "this is Vuanu calling, emergency call--" Drake walked over and took the microphone out of Cable's hand. He put it down carefully. "We can't call for help," he said. "What are you talking about?" Cable cried. "We have to!" Drake felt very tired. "Look, if we send out a distress call, somebody's going to come sailing right in--but they won't be prepared for this kind of trouble. The Quedak will take them over and then use them against us." "We can explain what the trouble is," Cable said. "_Explain?_ Explain _what_? That a bug is taking over the island? They'd think we were crazy with fever. They'd send in a doctor on the inter-island schooner." "Dan's right," Sorensen said. "Nobody would believe this without seeing it for himself."