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.

They came finally to the point where the jungle-trail joined the
sand-trail.

"There isn't one in sight," said Frank.

"They may have flown home," Honey said doubtfully.

"They're in the Clubhouse," said Ralph. And he burst suddenly into a
long, wild cry of triumph. The cry was taken up in a faint shrill e