He jumped back. The skipper had come forward and stamped down heavily on the sand. "What's the matter?" Sorensen asked. "Looked like a scorpion," the skipper said. "Damned thing crawled right out of your crate there. Might have bit you." * * * * * Sorensen shrugged. He had gotten used to the presence of an infinite number of insects during his three months on Vuanu. Another bug more or less didn't seem to make much difference. "Another drink?" he asked. "Can't do it," the skipper said regretfully. "I'd better get started. All your party healthy?" "All healthy so far," Sorensen said. He smiled. "Except for some bad cases of gold fever." "You'll never find gold in this place," the skipper said seriously. "I'll look in on you in about six months. Good luck." After shaking hands, the skipper went down to the beach and boarded his ship. As the first pink flush of sunset touched the sky, the schooner was under way. Sorensen and Drake watched it negotiate the pass. For a few minutes its masts were visible above the reef. Then they had dipped below the horizon. "That's that," Drake said. "Us crazy American treasure-hunters are alone again." "You don't think he suspected anything?" Sorensen asked. "Definitely not. As far as he's concerned, we're just crackpots." Grinning, they looked back at their camp. Under the copra shed was nearly fifty thousand dollars worth of gold and silver bullion, dug out of the jungle and carefully reburied. They had located a part of the _Santa Teresa_ treasure during their first month on the island. There was every indication of more to come. Since they had no legal title to the land, the expedition was not eager to let the news get out. Once it was known, every gold-hungry vagabond from Perth to Papeete would be heading to Vuanu. "The boy'll be in soon," Drake said. "Let's get some stew going." "Right," Sorensen said. He took a few steps and stopped. "That's funny." "What is?" "That scorpion the skipper squashed. It's gone." "Maybe he missed it," Drake said. "Or maybe he just pushed it down into the sand. What difference does it make?" "None, I guess," Sorensen said. II Edward Eakins walked through the jungle with a long-handled spade on his shoulder, sucking reflectively on a piece of candy. It was the first he'd had in weeks, and he was enjoying it to the utmost. He was in very good spirits. The schooner yesterday had brought in not only machinery and replacement parts, but also candy, cigarettes and food. He had eaten scrambled eggs this morning, and real bacon. The expedition was becoming almost civilized. Something rustled in the bushes near him. He marched on, ignoring it.