THE MAKING OF AN ISLAND 129 



we were originally concerned dealt with these creatures. Along 

 with this equipment I placed a wide-mouthed jar for keeping 

 specimens once they were secured. A box of matches, a knife 

 and a small bar of soap completed the pack. In the other grass 

 bag I placed as many tins of corned beef as it would hold. I 

 selected this meat as it seemed about as light and as nutritious 

 as anything I had at hand; for other nourishment I had to de- 

 pend on the .22/410 gauge game-getter which I demounted 

 from its stock and slung at my side as a large sort of pistol. 

 The .22 shells which were loaded with dust shot would serve 

 for my specimens, the .410's would do for doves and sandpipers 

 and other small game. A single shirt, a clean pair of strong white 

 ducks, socks and a new pair of canvas shoes were all the cloth- 

 ing I needed. 



When I closed the doors of my dwelling before dawn the 

 next morning, sending my friend, the spider, scurrying back 

 into his crack in the lintel, the air was Hght and cool. The trade 

 wind had slackened and was whispering faintly through the 

 grasses; in the east the sun had not yet risen, pale shafts of gray 

 light were just stealing above the horizon; a pair of tiny fly- 

 catchers was bubbling prettily somewhere off in the dark; the 

 stars were still glittering in the heavens although they had paled 

 slightly; the surf purred listlessly on the rocks below. A sense 

 of expectancy permeated the air; it was that magic moment 

 which exists briefly before the creatures of the day have be- 

 gun their activity and when the dwellers of the night have de- 

 parted for their hiding places, leaving the world momentarily 

 hushed and still. Caught with the elation of the hour, fresh 

 from a good night's sleep, I lifted the grass baskets, adjusted 

 them on my shoulders and stepped lightly into the path which 

 I had worn through the cacti down to the village. 



It was quite deserted. My footsteps echoed emptily between 

 the ruined houses, only the muffled sound of snoring coming 



