82 I N A G U A 



water, we stepped back and admired our handiwork. We could 

 not have asked for a nicer spot. The massed cacti in the rear 

 broke the force of the trade winds sweeping in from the east, 

 and our house so fitted into the landscape that a few yards away 

 it was all but invisible. The weeds and prickly pear still 

 hemmed it in and made walking in the yard difficult but an 

 hour's work with the machete produced a very satisfactory 

 clearing. When we had finished the sun was dropping close 

 to the horizon sending long slanting shadows across the ground. 



"Not bad," said Coleman. "If only we had something to eat." 



"That's easy." I grinned and led him down to the beach 

 where I had dropped the tins. We opened two with a machete, 

 guessing at their contents, for neither had any labels— they had 

 been washed off in the wreck— and found they contained sal- 

 mon and Bartlett pears. It was an odd mixture but we wolfed 

 them down hungrily and threw the empty cans into the sea. 



"I feel better already," said Wally. "Let's go back to the 

 settlement and see what's doing. It will soon be dark and we 

 can move around without attracting much attention." 



I agreed and we slipped between the cacti back of the hut. 



Mathewtown in the dark was even more sad than in the 

 full glare of daylight. Great splashes of moonlight filtered 

 through the tumbled roofs and between the garden walls. Here 

 and there a light gleamed from a crack in a window. The shut- 

 ters were all boarded tight to keep out the night breeze— and 

 not a soul moved in the streets. Like shadows we padded noise- 

 lessly by the buildings, paused a moment in front of Richard- 

 son's establishment and then filed into a back street. This, too, 

 was deserted. 



"Listen," said Wally. 



I stopped and turned an ear to the breeze. Somewhere off in 

 the maze of empty houses was a medley of voices, a singing and 

 tramping of feet. But it seemed muffled and some distance 



