Angel Island

"I think we've got them, boys," said Frank. There was a kind of

Berserker excitement about him, a wild note of triumph in his voice and

a white flare of triumph in his face. His breath came in excited gusts

and his nostrils dilated under the strain.

"I'm sure of it," agreed Ralph. "And, by Jove, I'm glad. I've never had

anything so get on my nerves as this chase." Ralph did, indeed, look

worn. Haggard and wild-eyed, he was shaking under the strain.

"Lord, I'm glad - but, Lord, it's some responsibility," said Honey

Smith. Honey was not white or drawn. He did not shake. But he had

changed. Still radiantly youthful, there was a new look in his face -

resolution.

"I feel like a mucker," groaned Billy. He lay face down on a heap of

vines, his forehead pressed against the cool leaves. "But it is right,"

he added as one arguing fiercely with himself. "It is right. There's no

other way."

"I feel like a white slaver," said Pete. He was unshaven and the black

shadow of his beard contrasted sharply with the white set look in his

face. "It's hell to live, isn't it? But the worst of it is, we must

live."

"Time's up." Frank breathed these words on the long gust of his outgoing

breath. "Now, don't go to pieces. Remember, it must be done."

One behind the other, they crawled through the narrow tunnel that they

had cut into the underbrush - found the trail.

"Let's swim across the lake," Honey suggested; "I'm losing my nerve."

"Good idea," Billy said. They plunged into the water. Fifteen minutes

later, they emerged on the other side, cool, composed, ready for

anything.

The long trip back to the camp was taken almost in silence. Once in a

while, a mechanical "That's a new bird, isn't it?" came from Billy and,

a perfunctory "Look at that color," from Pete. Frank walked ahead. He

towered above the others. He kept his eyes to the front. Ralph followed.

At intervals, he pulled himself up and peered into the sky or dropped

and tried to pierce the untranslatable distance; all this with the

quiet, furtive, prowling movements of some predatory beast. Next came

Honey, whistling under his breath and all the time whistling the same

tune. Billy and Pete, walking side by side, tailed the procession. At

times, those two caught themselves at the beginning of shuddering fits,

but always by a supreme effort they managed to calm themselves.