he kept at his labors, determined to
have that shell, his one chance of escape from the Island. The
wolverines feasted on the greenish-white flesh, but he could not bring
himself to sample it, climbing to the heights in search of eggs, and
making a happy find of a niche filled with the edible moss-fungi.

By late afternoon he had the shell scooped fairly clean and the
wolverines had carried away for burial such portions as they had not
been able to consume at their first eating. Meanwhile, the
leather-headed birds had grown bold enough to snatch up the fragments he
tossed out on the water, struggling for that bounty against feeders
arising from the depths of the lagoon.

At the coming of dusk Shann hauled the bloodstained, grisly trophy well
up the beach and wedged it among the rocks, determined not to lose his
treasure. Then he stripped and washed, first his clothing and then
himself, rubbing his hands and arms with sand until his skin was tender.
He was still exultant at his luck. The drift would supply him with
materials for an outrigger. One more day's work--or maybe two--and he
could leave. He wrung out his blouse and gazed toward the distant line
of the shore. Once he had his new canoe ready he would try to make the
trip back in the early morning while the mists were still on the sea.
That should give him cover against any Throg flight.

That night Shann slept in the deep fog of bodily exhaustion. There were
no dreams, nothing but an unconsciousness which even a Throg attack
could not have pierced. He roused in the morning with an odd feeling of
guilt. The water hole he had scooped in the valley yielded him some
swallows tasting of earth, but he had almost forgotten the flavor of a
purer liquid. Munching on a fistful of moss, he hurried down to the
shore, half fearing to find the shell gone, his luck out once again.

Not only was the shell where he had wedged it, but he had done better
than he knew when he had left it exposed in the night. Small things
scuttled away from it into hiding, and several birds arose--scavengers
had been busy lightening his unwelcome task for that morning. And
seeing how the clean-up process had gone, Shann had a second
inspiration.

Pushing the thing down the beach, he sank it in the shallows with
several rocks to anchor it. Within a few seconds the shell was invaded
by a whole school of spiny-tailed fish, that ate greedily. Leaving his
find to their cleansing, Shann went back to