![]() Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake-blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. He climbed over a broken trunk and was out of the jungle. In a few seconds the fat boy's grunts were behind him and he was hurrying toward the screen that still lay between him and the lagoon. "I'll be out again in just a minute-" Ralph disentangled himself cautiously and stole away through the branches. "Them fruit," he said, "I expect-" He put on his glasses, waded away from Ralph, and crouched down among the tangled foliage. He smeared the sweat from his cheeks and quickly adjusted the spectacles on his nose. An expression of pain and inward concentration altered the pale contours of his face. "And I've been wearing specs since I was three." He took off his glasses and held them out to Ralph, blinking and smiling, and then started to wipe them against his grubby wind-breaker. I was the only boy in our school what had asthma," said the fat boy with a touch of pride. "My auntie told me not to run," he explained, "on account of my asthma." "Ass-mar?" "That's right. The fat boy stood by him, breathing hard. ![]() Then he tripped over a branch and came down with a crash. You haven't seen any others, have you?" Ralph shook his head and increased his speed. "I expect there's a lot more of us scattered about. The fat boy hung steadily at his shoulder. "What's your name?" "Ralph." The fat boy waited to be asked his name in turn but this proffer of acquaintance was not made the fair boy called Ralph smiled vaguely, stood up, and began to make his way once more toward the lagoon. There must have been some kids still in it." He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. It wasn't half dangerous with all them tree trunks falling. "Where's it got to now?" "That storm dragged it out to sea. "Aren't there any grownups at all?" "I don't think so." ![]() He tried to be offhand and not too obviously uninterested, but the fat boy hurried after him. They must have, mustn't they?" The fair boy began to pick his way as casually as possible toward the water. "All them other kids," the fat boy went on. But he wasn't in the passenger cabin, he was up in front." The fair boy was peering at the reef through screwed-up eyes. Perhaps there aren't any grownups anywhere." The fat boy looked startled. "Where's the man with the megaphone?" The fair boy shook his head. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. "I can't hardly move with all these creeper things." The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy wind-breaker.
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