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Despite maneuverings that had barely stopped short of actual rudeness,

Duncan had been unable to avoid sharing a tent with the van Hyatts. Just before he dozed off, he heard Bill remark sleepily to his wife: “I’ve just remembered-the program said that hard hats would be provided. I wonder why?”

“Because Bill,” said another voice from the darkness, “tomorrow we explore the caves of the maneating vampire bats of Bongo Bongo. Now

for heaven’s sake shut up and go to sleep.”

PRIMEVAL FOREST

TDuncan’s surprise, it was already full daylight when he awoke. He decided that the wine must have been responsible, and even wondered if it had been drugged, for all his companions were still sleeping stertorously.

He rolled off the air mattress, and treading carefully over unconscious bodies, opened the flap of the tent. The glare drove him back for his dark glasses, for the sun was now shining from a blue, cloudless sky. As he walked to the portable shower, carrying towel and toothbrush, he scanned the circle of trees. In broad daylight, they seemed much less ominous; but with that infernal howl still echoing in his memory, nothing would have induced Duncan to venture there alone. For that matter, he was not quite sure how many companions he would need to give him any sense of security in the forest-but unless the jet returned for them, that was precisely where they would have to go. At one point he could see what looked like the beginning of a jungle trail, though from this distance it was impossible to tell whether it was made by men or animals. Nothing else was visible; the trees were so high, and so thick, that there could have been a range of mountains a few kilometers away, completely hidden from view.

Duncan ran into Boss on the way back from his toilet. The fearless leader looked as if he could use some extra sleep, but otherwise still seemed in full charge of the situation.

“Did you put something in that wine?” Duncan asked, after they had exchanged greetings. “Usually I dream-but last night..

Boss grinned. “Don’t expect me to reveal all Enigma’s little secrets. But in this case, we’ve nothing to hide. You can thank the natural, open-air life for your good night’s sleep-though the wine probably helped. Now let’s wake up the others.”

This took some time, but eventually all the troops were on parade, though in a slightly disheveled condition, with not a few stiff yawning mightily.

Groans of protest greeted Boss’s first order.

“We’re going for a little safari before breakfast. Coffee will be along in a minute, but that’s all you’re having now. Your appetites will be all the better when we get back.”

“And when will that be?” cried half a dozen voices simultaneously.

“It depends how fast you march. Bob-you’ll need better footwear than those sandals. Miss Leesorry, but in the jungle it’s advisable to wear something above the waist. And even more advisable below it, Miss Perry. Right, everybody-back here in five minutes, then we start. No breakfast for stragglers.”

There were no stragglers, though it must have been more than ten minutes before Boss had everyone lined up in double file. Then he disappeared into his private tent, only to emerge again at once, heavily laden.

Instantly, the babble of conversation stopped. There were sudden gasps of indrawn breath, and Duncan found himself staring at Enigma’s latest surprise with a curious mixture of fascination and disgust.

The fascination was undoubtedly there, despite the conditioning of a lifetime. He was ashamed of it -yet, somehow, not as ashamed as he might have been. Duncan had never concealed his impulses from himself; now he recognized the almost irresistible urge to reach out and take one of those monstrous instruments in his hand, to feel its power and weight-and to use it for the only purpose for which it was designed.

It was the first time he had ever seen a gun, and Boss was carrying

two, as well as a pair of cartridge belts. He handed one gun and belt over to an assistant, who took up his position at the end of the file.

“O.K.,” said Boss, just as nonchalantly as if he were unaware of the impression he had created. “Let’s go!”

As he. walked toward the edge of the clearing, he threw the gun over his shoulder and buckled on the belt of ammunition. It was perfectly obvious that He knew how to handle his armament, but Duncan did not find this in the least reassuring. And judging by the glum silence, neither did anyone else.

The track through the jungle turned out to be surprisingly well kept; when someone commented on this, Boss called back over his shoulder: “We have an arrangement with the local tribes-they’re friendly -you’ll meet them later.”

“That’s a giveaway!” whispered Bill van Hyatt in Duncan’s ear. “The only primitive tribes left are in the Far East. I knew it was Borneo.”