snubbed, the drum of the rusty winch rattled and banged on
worn bearings to a tune of escaping steam, laboriously warping the
smelly hull alongside the dock. Terry watched the sturdy little Moros
spring into agile life as the vessel slowly neared the pier, then he
turned to look over the town which was built flush with the edge of
the narrow beach, extending each way from the shore end of the pier.
The galvanized-iron roofs of the taller buildings--church, convent,
club, a few more pretentious dwellings,--were visible above the low
foliage and between the tall acacias and firetrees which jagged the
skyline. A heavily laden breeze identified unmistakably several long
buildings as copra warehouses.

It seemed a busy town, as towns near the equator go. In the street
into which the pier opened a thin stream of pedestrians passed by in
brief review before the watcher: Moros, a few Filipinos, a Chino
staggering under a heavy balanced pinga, two white-clad Americans,
while several rickshaws, Moro drawn, jogged by with patrons concealed
under raised tops. Then a big foreign touring car turned the corner
and drew up in front of the government building to deposit a middle
aged American, immaculate in fresh pongee.

Terry, observing him idly from where he stood at the rail, saw a
larger, uniformed American swing the corner with vigorous stride and
after saluting the older man accompany him respectfully to the
entrance to the big building, where they stood a moment in
conversation. Terry's interest quickened as he recognized the big
American as a member of his own service; he watched him approach the
ship through the crowd of half-nude sweating Moros who now swarmed the
dock.

Terry, hastening down the ship's ladder, met the tall officer as he
reached the end of the pier.

He was a loosely knit, raw-boned man of about thirty-five, of serious
but pleasant mien. As he stepped to meet Terry, Terry saw that he wore
the leaves of a Major.

"Lieutenant Terry?" he asked, responding with friendly informality to
Terry's stiff salute.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Bronner. Mighty glad to know you. We've been looking for you ever
since receiving a copy of the Headquarters Bulletin ordering you down
here. Have a good trip?"

"Well, Major, the _Francesca_ is no Empress liner but we got along all
right. I am very glad to know you, Major. Your brother and I were
roommates at college--he used to tell me of your experiences with the
head hunters-