Jack and Biff entered the one-room cabin. It was small, but comfortably furnished. Beds stood against the walls on either side of the room. At the rear there was a small, compact kitchen. Biff and Jack inspected the room quickly. They saw nothing unusual.
Chuba stood behind them, standing on tiptoes.
“There!” he said. “Watch, and you shall hear evil spirits.” He pointed to a small box on the floor by one of the beds.
As they watched, a low growl came from the box. The growl grew louder. It became a wail. Then it turned into the high, piercing scream of a siren. It held this chilling, blood-curdling pitch for about ten seconds. Then the lid of the box slowly raised. A yellowish hand emerged. It bent over the front of the box. One finger touched a small button. The high scream dropped down to a wail, then to a growl, then stopped. The hand withdrew into the box. The lid closed. All was silent again.
Biff put a restraining hand on Chuba, keeping the boy from fleeing in terror. On Biff’s face a slow grin was spreading. He wanted to laugh, but one glance at Chuba’s stricken face stopped him. This was a serious thing to Chuba. Chuba would feel Biff was laughing at him, insulting him.
Jack stared at the box in amazement. “Now just what on earth is that thing?” He scratched his head. Biff started across the room toward the box.
“Hold it, Biff. We don’t know what that gadget might be. Might be a bomb.”
Now Biff did laugh. Even Jack was concerned. Not terror-stricken like Chuba, but the weird performance of the box had undoubtedly alarmed Jack.
Biff reached for the box, bent over, and picked it up. Chuba cowered behind Jack. But the native boy’s curiosity got the better of him. He watched Biff’s every move, his eyes wide.
“It’s only a toy, Jack,” Biff said. “My kid brother got one last Christmas. It was the newest thing out. Caused a sensation.”