"You think this island we are hunting might be the same island your girl claimed she found?" Retch spoke from the front end of the boat. "And if it is the same island?" Mercedes said. Anger came boiling up in Parker. "If it is that island, and if I ever get back to Los Angeles, I am going to hunt up a psychiatrist by the name of Yammer and take care of him!" Parker dug the water savagely. Gradually, his anger subsided. "Where did you run into the rumor about this island?" Retch shrugged. "It was just one of those things you hear." He studied the landscape. "We should spot a boat soon." "We are not exactly on the well-traveled ocean lanes," Parker pointed out. "Does it happen that there are any other little things about this island that you forgot to tell me when you chartered my ship to fly you down here?" Retch flushed. "Such as--" "Such as how it happened that my 'copter threw a vane just after we sighted the place?" Retch did not answer. "Seemed as though somebody shot at us." "Oh hell no! The loss of the vane was accidental." "Accidents like that can happen but they usually don't. I checked the ship before we took off." Parker turned silent. There was no proof that the wrecking of the 'copter had been anything but an accident. "What do you expect to find on this island?" "I told you--" "Just before the 'copter started down, Miss Valdar was yakking about how we were all going to be rich," Parker interrupted. The glance Retch gave Mercedes had no love in it. "Sometimes she's got her mouth open when she ought to have it shut." * * * * * Mercedes was silent. "I see," Parker said. "When you chartered my ship, you told me you were a scientist and that you wanted to investigate certain phenomena on this island. You said your investigation would take only a few hours. I was to fly you here and wait for you. You said you might want me to fly you back to the mainland, or might not, depending on what you found here. Is this correct?" "Certainly," Retch answered. "I'm sorry you lost your ship but the insurance will take care of it." "Insurance will take care of the 'copter but not of my neck. _Are_ you a scientist?" "Of course. Didn't I tell you--" "What kind of a scientist are you?" "I--ah--What do you mean?" "What's your specialty? Are you a biologist, a physicist, or what?" "I--" "I don't believe you are a scientist at all. You don't talk like one." "Damn it, I told you what I am and that's what I am!" Retch's face showed sullen and his hand moved toward the gun. Parker tensed. Retch stopped the movement of his hand. He glared at the big pilot. "Okay," Parker said. "It doesn't make any difference anyhow." He resumed paddling. The sun slid down the western sky. Retch and Mercedes huddled in the front end of the raft and whispered to each other. From time to time, the woman glanced at Parker. He paid no attention to her.