He looked off toward the sun now hanging low over the dark, blue sea, and at the green jungle at his feet. Yes, this was a great little world over here. He’d like to come back some time. But just now, how he’d like to be back in the old home town!
CHAPTER XVII
VOICES IN THE NIGHT
Jack dreamed until the sun was low; finally he heard Stew giving the call of a parakeet, the signal they had agreed upon.
He squawked in answer, then gathered up his violin and went hurrying down the hill.
“What were you going to do,” Stew exclaimed when they were together again, “dream up there all day and half the night?”
“Not quite,” Jack laughed. “But you have to take time to relax, even in war, or you’re likely to crack up.”
“You’ll never crack!” Stew was tired. “Look what I got for supper!” He held up his catch.
“Fish! Oh, boy!” Jack made a brave attempt at expressing joy.
“You’d be thankful for fish,” said Stew, “if you’d been through what I have!”
“What happened?” Jack was curious.