The second can also contained some food. Besides this there was a quantity of first-aid material. Finding this in good condition, they stowed it away carefully.
The last can promised to be the grand prize, provided they could figure it out. It was a small radio sending set, powered by electricity generated by turning a crank.
“It’s an imitation of our American emergency radio,” Jack declared after looking it over. “Take a lot of doping out, but it’s our best bet for getting in touch with our ship. We’ll get busy on it first thing in the morning.
“And now,” he added in a changed voice, “how would you like to grab a few winks of sleep while I guard camp and solve some of the problems of the universe?”
“Nothing would suit me better.” Stew yawned. “It’s been a long day.”
It was a gloomy little world Jack watched over that night. Dark clouds had come rolling in at sunset. They had thinned out a little now, giving the moon an occasional peek at him.
“Just enough to give some prowler a shot at us in the night,” he grumbled to himself. He wished he knew who those men were with the propellerless plane. How was he to find out? Ask the natives? But were these natives to be trusted? Missionaries had beyond a doubt been here, but they weren’t here now. “How long does it take these primitive people to drop back into their old ways?” he asked himself. But he found no answer.
“Things will work themselves out,” he reasoned hopefully.
After that he gave himself over to thoughts of the folks at home. Dad and Mom seated by the fire—Patsy in the house next door, studying perhaps, or entertaining one of the 4-H boys. How shadowy and far away it all seemed now.
He was deep in the midst of all this when suddenly, as the moon cast a patch of light on his beach and the cluster of palms not twenty yards away, he was startled by a voice at his very elbow.