Jack remained where he was. He seemed to catch sight of shadowy figures in the brush. Visions of flying spears and arrows haunted him.
“We’re two fliers from the United States Navy,” he said, having decided to tell the truth. “Our plane was wrecked. We came ashore on a rubber raft. Now, who are you?” he repeated.
“How are we to know that you are speaking the truth?” the girl asked, ignoring his question. “There’s a Jap raft drawn up on the beach,” she went on.
“Yes. We drew it up.” Jack’s throat went dry.
“Then perhaps you came in it.”
“Do I look like a Jap?” He played his flashlight on his own face.
“Not like a Jap, but you might be a German. All the traders were Germans before the war.”
“All right. Have it your way!” He threw a flash of light into her eyes. By doing this, he discovered an added pair of eyes—small, monkey eyes. The monk was on her shoulder.
“Is that your monkey?” he asked.
“Yes.”