utras about evil demons were preserved. So Liu Ching-chen turned his face to the west and set out for India on foot, knowing this would please the gods. He experienced thirst in the desert, fear in the forests, and hunger on the barren plains. He crossed high rocky mountains, where on stormy nights evil spirits sharpened their bronze swords against the rough boulders. Finally, after making his way across the last eight mountain passes and through the last nine ravines, Liu Ching-chen reached India. This was in the year of Metal and the Tiger. Liu Ching-chen came to the Temple of Incarnation, where special cells were set aside for meditation. Here he was told of a Hindu sage living in the mountains who, through frugality, silence and immobility, had attained a state of mystical awareness that was the Third Degree of Holiness. Liu Ching-chen set out for the terrifying mountains in search of the cave where this India sage sat contemplating his inner self, having renounced a world that was merely the semblance of reality. The sage did not turn Liu Ching-chen away. He told him about the system of philosophy known as Sankhya, the eight aspects of the Unknown, the eight aspects of Delusion, and the eighteen aspects of Absolute Darkness. He taught Liu Ching-chen the Four Modes of Breathing and all else that gives man power over his own body. He taught Liu Ching-chen the science of the power of the spirit over the world around him. Liu Ching-chen moved into a cave not far from the Indian sage. He did not disturb the sage; he did not see him in the flesh, but he communicated with him by the force of his spirit. He learned to renounce all that was earthly. He was indifferent to the changing of the seasons, to inclement weather, to wind and snow. One day, the sky grew dark. Hot air streamed down the mountain slopes, driving before it masses of snow that melted instantly. Frightful heat swept over Liu Ching-chen; he felt the mountain tremble beneath him. Then he saw one of the Five Beasts, the Unicorn, descend from the heavens. The Unicorn was more than 300 chi, or 100 metres, long, and at least 80 chi, or 25 metres, around. Its body was covered with golden scales. It lay without moving. Then it expelled a breath, and the hissing of the air that came out of its nostrils was so loud and so terrifying that Liu Ching-chen could no longer bear to be alone. He fled to join his Hindu mentor. They huddled together, trembling with fear as they gazed at this sign from heaven, and they prayed to Buddha. Then the jaws of the Unicorn opened and a man stepped out. Although he was more than seven chi tall and his naked body had a transparent covering through which gleamed copper-coloured skin, he was a two-legged creature with nine orifices, and therefore a human being. The copper-coloured man looked round. He carried a weapon, a three-pronged spear, which he thrust into the rocks without leaving a scratch on them. Then six more like him stepped out from between the Unicorn's jaws. They strode along, plunging their three-pronged spears into the rocks, producing streaks of green lightning with which they splintered the rocks. After a large number of rocks had been splintered into rubble the copper-coloured men drew a scroll out of the Unicorn's mouth, unrolled it, and turned it into a path that ran of itself but remained in the same place. They tried to feed broken stone to the Unicorn, but every time they picked them up the stones fell through the palms of their hands like water through a sieve. They collected switches of gold and silver, wove a cage out of them, and placed the cage on top of the pile of rubble. They drew red tendons from the body of the Unicorn and tied them to the cage. Liu Ching-chen and his companion heard the Unicorn give a long scream. They saw a radiance about the cage, and they sensed, in the air, the freshness that follows a thunderstorm. The copper-skinned men could now pick up the stones, which they flung on the running path. The path carried the stones into the mouth of the Unicorn, and the Unicorn swallowed them. After this the men stepped into the mouth of the Unicorn, carrying away all the switches from the cage, and the Unicorn roared with pleasure as it swallowed the stones. Finally the Unicorn belched up the stones it had not been able to digest. These were black and scorched from being in his belly, and the smoke they gave off was green. Together with the black stones the Unicorn threw up iron crowns that looked like flowers with many petals, after which its jaws snapped shut. The Unicorn rose on its tail, erupting fire, and soared upwards. It hovered over the mountain for a long time, resting on the fire. Liu Ching-chen and his mentor fell flat on the ground, for the air round them was hot and heavy, and it scorched and oppressed them. When they dared to lift their heads the Unicorn was gone. At the bottom of the ravine lay smoking stones, the remains of its meal. The two men sat there for a long time in a state of silent meditation, attempting to comprehend what had taken place. Then the Hindu sage rose and walked over to the stones. He bent down to pick up the remains of the Unicorn's meal, but his fingers passed through the stones. He was unable to hold them in his hands. They meditated three more days. On the morning of the fourth day the Hindu sage said: "We are wrong to regard the world about us as Maya, the world of illusion. Take those stones. We could see them and we could feel them, but the celestial beings could only see them; they could not feel them. Yet they had knowledge. Applying their knowledge, they changed the essence of the stones so that they could feel them. "Woe is me! How many years I have lost seeking knowledge in the wrong place! Man does have power over material things. Man smelts ore to obtain iron. He fells trees and makes resin. There is no Maya; there are only things and man's power over them." The Hindu departed. But Liu Ching-chen did not lose faith. He wrote down what he had seen, and having thus freed his mind he resumed his meditation. He was now at peace again. But this peace was disturbed when the Hindu sage returned to the ravine. The Hindu was richly outfitted and was accompanied by many servants. They placed a black wheel with golden discs before the Hindu and whirled it for a long time, like a prayer wheel, until sparks flew and the air took on a fresh smell. Imitating the copper-coloured men, the Hindu placed a golden cage on top of the stones and the iron, the food of the Unicorn, and repeated what the copper-coloured men had done. The stones obeyed him, and he was able to pick them up. "Liu Ching-chen," he called. "A nobleman has given me these servants and the food and the vessels. I shall live in his house and seek Power over Things. You were my disciple before; be my disciple now." However, Liu Ching-chen refused to yield to temptation. He knew that the Hindu, the servants, the mountains and everything else were Maya, the world of illusion. After the Hindu departed, carrying away the stones and the iron of the copper-coloured men, Liu Ching-chen remained in the mountains a long time. Then he went down to the valley, to the Temple of Incarnation. There the mantle of holiness descended on him. He now returned home to teach his fellow-men meekness and humility, inasmuch as the world of the senses is merely Maya, the seeming, non-existent world. The Hindu, so it was rumoured, learned something mysterious when he entered into the affairs of earthly rulers and was therefore done away with. His soul went through a bad reincarnation, descending the Ladder of Perfection. Thus, too, will it be with all who attempt to give a materialistic interpretation to heavenly miracles and signs. Such an interpretation is an insult to the gods, for the world of things is merely Maya, illusion. Academician Markov fell silent. He neatly folded the pages of the photographic reproduction and put them back into the folder. Then he removed his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. The afterglow of the setting sun slowly faded outside the window. A bird cried somewhere in the pine woods. The blue silence of twilight settled over the Moscow countryside. The Academician's guests, spellbound by the story he had just read them, sat in silence. Professor Bagbanly was the first to speak. "The Hindu in this story reminds me of the ancient sage in Fedor Matveyev's manuscript," he remarked, rising. He began to pace the floor. "To what century does your story relate?" "The sixth, according to the European system of chronology. Not earlier. The hero read books which Hsuan-tsang brought from India, and Hsuan-tsang lived in the sixth century." "But wasn't some kind of year mentioned in the tale?" "Yes. Liu Ching-chen came to India in the year of Metal and the Tiger. According to the old Chinese system, that was the twenty-seventh year of a cycle. There were sixty years in a cycle. The first year of a cycle was the year of Wood and the Mouse." "How does that fit in with our calendar?" "Well, in the current cycle the year of Metal and the Tiger was 1951. If we go back sixty years from that we get 1891, then 1831, then 1771, then 1711-" "The year 1711?" Privalov interrupted. "That tallies with Fedor Matveyev's manuscript. Liu Ching-chen could have come into contact with the same Hindu sage who several years later gave Matveyev's knife the property of penetrability. "Why can't we assume," he went on, "that a spaceship from some distant world was forced to land somewhere in the Himalayas? The ship came from a world where the bonds connecting matter are different. The spacemen had to replenish their supply of nuclear fuel. The rock they found in the Himalayas proved to be active enough for their needs. They split it by the electro-spark method." "Not the Lazarenko method, by any chance?" Professor Bagbanly asked joshingly. "At any rate, they probably had a similar method. But a hitch arose: they found matter on earth to be penetrable. They then assembled some sort of apparatus and changed the properties of the stones, making them impenetrable, and loaded them into the spaceship on a belt conveyor. Next they repaired the ship, putting in some new gears and discarding the used ones-those were the 'iron flowers'-and flew off to wherever they were bound." Professor Bagbanly laughed. "You'd make a good science-fiction writer, Boris." Academician Markov was sketching the head of an old man with a beard and a hooked nose on his writing pad. He appeared to be completely absorbed in what he was doing, but suddenly he raised his head and looked at Professor Bagbanly. "Why not?" he said. "Anything's possible in this world. The wildest fantasies do not surprise science any longer." "True enough. But a spaceship in the Himalayas-" "The Hindu happened to be in the mountains," the Academician went on quietly. "He watched those creatures from outer space. He had probably dabbled in physics before this. Later he may have used the restructured stones as a force for passing on their properties to other objects." Privalov sprang to his feet. "Passing on their properties to other objects? What an odd idea!" "Not at all," the Academician insisted. "If we had something made out of a substance with changed bonds-for example, that legendary knife of Fedor Matveyev's-we'd immediately look for a way of transferring its properties." Privalov seemed upset to hear this. "Do you mean we aren't on the right track? Does that mean the 'half-twist spiral' which Fedor Matveyev mentioned was not a Mobius band at all but something else?" "No, we're on the right track, Boris. About that band of Matveyev's, it's hard to tell- It may have been simply a part of the apparatus. The important thing is that the word suggested a magnificent idea to your Nikolai Potapkin." The Academician paused, then went on, "However, it's still merely an assumption. Only one thing is obvious. At the beginning of the eighteenth century India had a great scientist, a man whose name we do not know. He greatly enriched his age, but his own life was a tragedy." Boris Privalov sat lost in thought. His mind was on Liu Ching-chen and the Hindu sage. In his imagination he saw the towering peaks of the Himalayas, and exhausted men bringing down some sort of resins from the mountains. Fedor Matveyev mentioned those resins, leading Koltukhov to conceive the idea of powerfully charged electrets. After a time he said: "What if we tried to fill in the power abyss with electrets?" "With electrets?" The Academician looked at him in surprise. "But they're a very weak source, even though, I admit, inexhaustible." "Weak, you say? But listen to this!" Privalov retold the episode described in Fedor Matveyev's manuscript and then spoke of Koltukhov's supposition that Lal Chandra's men had charged the resin with cosmic rays. "Yes, now I remember," said the Academician. "But it never entered my head- Well, well, do go on." Privalov excitedly gave a detailed account of Koltukhov's experiments with electret coatings for pipelines. "By Allah, that's not a bad idea at all!" Professor Bagbanly exclaimed when Privalov had finished. "The Academy has the most powerful electrostatic generators in the world. Let's use them to charge resin according to Koltukhov's method." "A powerful, inexhaustible battery of electrets," Academician Markov murmured thoughtfully. "Very well, let's try it." He paused, then said, "The frequency situation is clear. Now we'll tackle the power situation. Let's build a model of your pipeless oil pipeline, but in a small pool and without glass tubes." "Like Lal Chandra's?" Privalov asked. "Something like it. But without any theatrical effects such as burning water. Lal Chandra must have broken down the water in the pool by electrolysis and ignited the hydrogen with a spark. That's no use to us, of course. But pumping oil through water is something we want to do. We'll set up a Mobius band in the pool, both a reception band and a transmission band. Also a power beam installation. We'll test the electrets. "We'll try to drive a stream of oil through water. We'll see how the restructured matter behaves within the framework of intensified surface tension. If we get results that look promising we'll try to shift our experiment to your place on the Caspian. We'll choose a suitable area of the sea and do the experiment under natural conditions. By the way, I must go down to the Caspian for something else besides this pipeline business. There's another problem that is just as important." CHAPTER FOUR IN WHICH THE CREW OF THE MEKONG LEARNS TO LIVE ON A DESERT ISLAND Kneeling behind Yura's head, Nikolai energetically brought Yura's arms up over his head and then back to his sides. He worked steadily, up and down, up and down. Val stood beside him. She was shaking all over. Suddenly Yura gave a faint groan. Sobbing, Val fell to her knees beside him. "Go away!" Nikolai shouted angrily, moving Yura's arms up and down more vigorously than ever. Yura's body jerked. He opened his eyes, sighed, then turned his head and vomited. Meanwhile, the storm continued to rage. The wind howled savagely and the surf thundered as it crashed against the rocks. Sand began to fill the hollow. It grated between their teeth and sifted into their ears. "He'll live," said Nikolai as he threw himself onto the sand in utter exhaustion. "My head aches," Yura muttered, looking up at the dark figures around him. "One, two, three-" he counted. "Where's Rex? Ah, there he is." He closed his eyes. Val held his hand tightly in hers. "I hit my head on a bitt when the stay-sheet swung past me," he whispered a little later. "Nikolai pulled you out of the water," said Val. Big tears were rolling down her cheeks. Yura muttered something that sounded like "He did the right thing". When it started to grow light the crew of the Mekong climbed the slope. Below they saw a strip of beach. Stiff tufts of tall brown grass thrust up out of the sand. The Mekong lay on its side on a reef. Without its mast it looked headless. Waves were washing over it. The sea, an angry dark grey, was covered with whitecaps. "Let's take a look at the boat," said Nikolai, running down to the beach. Yura was about to follow but stopped when Nikolai turned round and shouted: "Stay where you are! Valery and I will go." The two young men slowly waded along the reef, pushing their way through the cold, heavy waves. Large chunks of sandstone were scattered over the bottom. The boat's rudder was firmly wedged between two submerged rocks. The broken mast, still attached to the deck, was being pounded by the waves against the side of the boat. Nikolai and Valery scrambled up onto the deck and made their way to the cabin, which was half full of water and in a complete mess. The portholes had been smashed in; a lady's slipper, several ring-shaped bread rolls and a bunch of onions floated on the water. On the starboard side there was a hole four planks wide below the waterline. Nikolai discovered this when he put his foot through it. "Looks like we're stuck on this island," he muttered. He dived, ran his hands round the corner of the cabin that was under the water, and brought up a canvas sack of tools. "Now I feel better," he told Valery, snorting and blowing out water. "Here's the fishing gear!" Valery shouted joyfully. During the night he had been silent and a bit frightened. Now he was his old self again. "We'll catch fish and live like Robinson Crusoe." They dragged up to the deck everything the water had not swept away through the hole. Then they fashioned a small raft out of boards, loaded what they had salvaged onto it, lashed the things all down securely with ropes, and dragged the raft to shore. Immediately afterwards, they made a second trip, returning bowed down under the weight of the wet sails. Also, they dragged the mast to the beach. When they had rested up a bit they spread the sails out to dry, placing rocks on the corners to prevent them from being carried away by the wind. They likewise spread out the salvaged food and clothing on the pebbles to dry. The high wind drove low, ragged clouds over the little island and sent huge waves sweeping across the reef. The five young people and the dog were stranded on an inhospitable patch of land. Setting her bare feet down gingerly on the pebbles, Rita walked over to Nikolai. "What are we going to do, Commodore?" she asked. "We're going to have some breakfast first, and then we'll see." They went back to the hollow, where they were sheltered against the wind. Yura opened three tins of meat with his knife. "Couldn't we heat them up?" Val asked. "Certainly. If we had kerosene and matches." "No matches at all? How will we get along without fire?" "Oh, we'll have fire," Yura promised. "After all, this isn't the Stone Age." They ate in silence, using two knives, two screwdrivers and Yura's trusty Durandal screwdriver. Nikolai reviewed their situation. "The boat's smashed," he said, "so we'll have to forget about, any further sailing for the time being. We'll have to live on this island for a while. Fishing, vessels and ships of the Caspian oil prospecting service sail among these islands all the time, so we needn't worry about not being rescued. We'll keep a signal fire burning all night long." "Let's take stock of our food," Yura suggested. "Any self-respecting Robinson Crusoe always starts with that." The castaways found they had nine tins of meat, four tins of sardines and a tin of hardtack. They also had three packets of dehydrated pea soup that were splitting open, twenty-seven potatoes, six packages of soggy biscuits, a bundle of onions, and two bottles of vegetable oil. Their supplies of flour, sugar, millet grits and butter had vanished for good. "What about water?" Rita asked. "I think there's enough." Nikolai indicated a wooden cask. "There must be thirty litres here. It'll last us a good ten days. Then we can use this resin to turn sea water into at least twenty litres of drinking water. But we don't have enough food." "We'll catch fish," said Valery. "Yes, of course. Fish will be our mainstay. We'll save the tinned meat for an emergency. I'm sure we'll manage." The other items salvaged were: Rita's sundress, one sandal of Val's (the right foot) and one sandal of Valery's (the left foot), the blankets, the primus stove, the transistor radio, the aqualung, the camera, the fishing rod, the binoculars and the compass. Printed matter included sailing directions, Kaverin's novel Fulfillment of Desire, whose pages the wind was indifferently ruffling, and a map, now spread out to dry on the beach and held down by stones along the edges. A mess-tin, a saucepan and a canvas pail were the only vessels they now had. In the tool case they found, besides the two knives and the two screwdrivers, a hatchet, pliers, a chisel, a hacksaw, nails, a tin containing sail thread and needles, and a tin of polish with which to keep the brass on the boat bright. The label said the polish could be used to clean jewels, dentures, lavatory pans, samovars, wind instruments and trolleybuses. "The funny thing is that it's all true," said Nikolai, turning the tin about in his hands. "What a pity we don't have any trolleybuses or precious stones!" They all wore watches, but only Rita's and Valery's still kept time. Nikolai's watch ticked only when he shook it, while Yura's waterproof and shockproof model did not react to shaking or to anything else. "Well, the warranty that came with my watch said the wearer should guard it against shock and water," Yura remarked. He was studying the map, running his finger over the still damp surface. "Where are we?" Nikolai asked, squatting on his haunches beside Yura. "This must be Ipaty Island," Yura said. "We were driven southwards and the gale struck right here. Yes, Ipaty Island." He leafed through the sailing directions. "The island emerged from the sea about a century and a half ago. Before that there was a shoal here known as Devil's Site." Towards noon the wind died down and it grew warmer. The castaways set about building themselves a shelter. They placed the mast on the ground in such a way that it jutted all of three metres over the hollow. Next, they heaped stones on the end of the mast to make it secure, and supported the jutting end with crossed boat-hooks. They draped the spinnaker over this frame and tied the edges to stakes driven into the ground. The storm sail was arranged to curtain off part of the tent for the ladies. They turned the folded mainsail into a springy floor and the jib into a door. Yura clicked his tongue. "A tiptop wigwam. I've dreamed of living in a cosy wigwam like this since I was a kid." "Our next job," said Nikolai, "is fire. The sky seems to be clearing up a bit. As soon as the sun comes out we'll make fire. Meanwhile, let's get some firewood." "You sound as though someone had laid in a supply of firewood especially for us," Val remarked sarcastically. "That's exactly what the sea has done. North of us lies a densely-populated coast. The north wind is the prevailing wind here. And to top it all, our camp is situated on the north side of this island. So there must be firewood somewhere close by." Valery was told to find a calm cove and try his luck with the fishing-rod. The others wandered off along the shore. "Here's the first piece of wood!" Nikolai exclaimed, picking up an old, cracked slat from a dinghy. After that they found boards from crates and pieces of square beams and fishing-net frames. When, loaded with firewood, they returned to the camp, a patch of blue was visible through the clouds. The sun peeped out timidly but immediately dived back into a cloud. Valery had caught a few little bullheads and one good-sized carp, which he handed over to the girls to clean. The cloud slid away from the sun. Yura unscrewed the lens of the camera and used it as a magnifying glass to set fire to several strands of rope. After energetic blowing, a few chips of wood caught fire. It was not long before a fire was blazing merrily in the hollow. "We'll never have to worry as long as you boys are here," Val remarked, smiling. The men sharpened the knives on a flat stone and carved, out of driftwood, five objects more or less resembling spoons. They set to dinner with a healthy appetite. "I never tasted a better fish stew in my life," Rita confessed. "I'm ashamed of myself but I can't seem to stop eating-" After lunch they grew drowsy, for none of them had slept much the previous night. "Crawl into the wigwam and take a nap," Nikolai said. "I'll stand watch for a while." He sat alone for a long time, tossing pieces of driftwood on the fire. Rex dozed by his side. He was glad the girls showed no signs of being worried but were content to leave everything to Yura and himself. But, facing the facts squarely, he had to admit it was unlikely that they would be rescued. They could not bank on anyone calling at the island. He'd have to think of a way cut-in the primeval silence the surf pounded with a sullen roar. The sky had cleared in the west, and it now glowed red and gold from the setting sun. He'd have to think of a way out- He dozed off, but before long a rustling sound caused him to jerk up his head. Rita had emerged from the tent. She yawned and sat down beside him. "Are we going to be here long, Nikolai?" she asked, picking up a handful of sand and letting it run through her fingers. "It's important for me to know." "I'm afraid I can't tell you. We'll think of a way out. Are you sorry you came along?" "No, not a bit. But I'd like to return to town as soon as possible." "We'll think of a way out," he repeated. "There's no such thing as a hopeless situation." Rita smiled at him. "Be sure to find a way out," she said softly. That evening they sang songs in chorus. They were in high spirits as they learned the words of a Papuan song that Nikolai had found in a book by the explorer Miklukho-Maklay. The rather repetitious Papuan song, which fitted in with their present situation, spoke of how to make the pith of the sago palm edible. Yura conducted, while the others danced round the fire, hands linked, and sang: Bom, bom, marare; Marare, tamole. Mara, mara, marare, Bom, bom, marare. Rex howled conscientiously, his muzzle pointed skywards. When they finished singing they decided in what order they would stand night watches of two hours each. The man on duty would keep a fire going on top of the hillock as a signal to any ship that might pass by. Yura was the first to go on duty. Val sat beside him. Reflections of the fire flickered across their faces. "Does your head ache badly?" Val asked, "No, it's much better." "Just think of it-if it hadn't been for Nikolai-" She did not finish the sentence but moved closer to him. He put his arm round her shoulders and said in a voice she did not recognize, "Know what, Val? Let's get married." He did not see Val's face light up because just then the fire gave off a shower of sparks and he leaned forward to toss on a piece of wood. Val laughed softly. "First we'll have to get off this island-" "Well, what do you say?" Val kissed him quickly and rose to her feet. "Good night, Yura," she whispered, and crawled into the tent, smiling happily in the darkness. The morning dawned on a blue sea without a single ripple. Wispy white clouds floated in the sky. Yura and Nikolai waded along the reef until they reached the Mekong. A careful examination convinced them that they would not be able to patch up the hole or get the boat off the reef. Two pontoons and a launch would be needed to tow their sailboat back to the marina. On their return to shore Nikolai slowly swept the horizon with his binoculars. Then he handed them to Yura. "Look over there." What Yura saw through the glasses was a lacy network of lines in the sky that looked as though they had been drawn in India ink on blue silk. This was the top of an oil rig. Yura ran into the tent for the map and compass. He studied the map carefully and then declared that what they saw was an offshore exploratory rig near Turtle Island. "Yes, that confirms it," he said. "We're on Ipaty. (Turtle Island is about fifteen nautical miles from here. The rig can be our reference point. Shall we try to swim there?" "No, it's too far. Besides, the current will be against us. What we must do is build a raft." "A raft?" "That's right. With a sail and a sliding rudder. Like the Kon-Tiki. We'll choose a day with a south wind-with a north wind we wouldn't make it on a raft-and it shouldn't take us more than eight hours to reach Turtle Island. If we find geologists there they'll have a transmitter. We'll radio to town and Mehti will send a motor-boat for us." "Suppose there aren't any geologists working there?" "Then we'll continue on to the next island. We'll go island-hopping." "So be it. We'll start building a raft at once." After breakfast the castaways set out to explore their new domain and to search for building material for a raft. The north shore of the island was strewn with driftwood. There were also logs that storms had torn loose from timber rafts, with staples sticking out of them. They selected logs they could use for the raft and rolled them higher up on shore. Some five hundred metres farther on the sloping shore turned southwards and grew steeper. There the water was a bluish-grey. Large gas bubbles seethed in it and burst on reaching the surface. "Another volcano!" Yura exclaimed. "And here's his land brother," said Nikolai. Ten metres from the water's edge there was a little mound topped by a small crater from which warm, watery mud was slowly flowing down to the sea. Nikolai climbed to the top of the crater, pulled off his shirt, spread it out on the ground, and heaped thick grey clay from the crater on it. "What's that for, Nikolai?" Valery asked. "A stove." "But you'll ruin your shirt," said Rita. "Quite the contrary. This clay is a fine cleansing agent." The south shore proved to be steep. It was edged with a narrow strip of pebbles and boulders, and there was no sand. "An easy place to approach from the sea," Nikolai remarked when they came to a cove. "Look, the water here is deep very close to the shore; you could come close in a boat." "That's just what somebody has been doing," said Valery, pointing to a piece of pipe half buried in the pebbles on the beach. It had obviously been used as a bollard. The young engineers examined the pipe. They discovered the trade-mark of the Southern Pipe Mill and also a series of numbers indicating the size of the pipe, the number of the melt, the grade of steel, and the year it was made. "Why, it's last year's date!" Yura exclaimed. "That means geologists come here." Nikolai looked at Rita. "I told you we wouldn't be stuck here." The tour of the island did not take long. The total length of the shoreline could not have been more than three kilometres. "Now, my friends, let's get to work," said Nikolai after they returned to camp. "Valery, cast your fishing-line again. Yura and I will drag some logs." With the help from the girls Yura and Nikolai rolled the logs on the north side of the island down to the water, roped them together, and pulled them round to the camp. On the way Nikolai picked up a stump that was half rotten and covered with a thick coating of salt. "What are you going to do with that horrid thing?" Val asked. "You'll see." After a dip in the sea Yura and Nikolai built a stove out of chunks of sandstone and coated it with volcanic clay. "Campfires may be more romantic but they don't produce much heat and they eat up a lot of wood," said Yura. "We're not savages, after all." Valery returned with his catch, followed by Rex, rapturously sniffing at the fishtails trailing over the pebbles. Meanwhile, Nikolai set fire to the rotten slump. When it had burned away he collected the ashes in a tin, tasted them, nodded with satisfaction, and dropped a pinch into the pot in which the fish were cooking. "What are you doing?" Val exclaimed in horror. "Are you mad?" Nikolai held the tin out to her. "You try it." "Not for the world!" Rita stuck a dampened finger into the tin and licked it. "Why, it's salt!" she exclaimed. "Miklukho-Maklay is helping us again," Nikolai explained. "He wrote that the tribes of New Guinea eat the ashes of a tree that has lain in salt water for a long time." Rita laughed. "I've read Miklukho-Maklay too but I don't remember that. There certainly is nothing to worry about when you boys are around." After lunch they boiled some water and rationed it out. Although water was poured into a tin for Rex as usual, he refused to drink it. Instead, he stretched out in the shade of the tent and placed his tongue on his front paws. Yura and Nikolai exchanged glances. "What's wrong with him?" Yura asked. "He hasn't touched water since morning." "Could he be going mad?" Val suggested worriedly. Rita called to Rex, took his head between her hands, looked closely at his eyes and nose, then opened his jaws and examined them. "I've never seen a healthier dog in my life," she said, pushing Rex's nose into the tin of water. "Please drink, Rex." But Rex squirmed 'out of her grip and ran off. "I don't like that," said Yura. "I wonder where he's off to. I intend to find out." He set off after the dog, in the direction of the middle of the island. The others followed. At the top of the rise they saw another mud volcano, at the foot of which grew tufts of brown grass. Nearby, between two parallel slopes, there lay several pools of water. Rex was wandering from pool to pool. "There's the answer," said Yura. "The water from the cask isn't fresh-and he must have found fresh water here this morning. Fine explorers we are! We investigated the edge of the island but didn't think of going into the middle. Rex did our thinking for us." Skirting the mud volcano, they reached a rise beyond which they could see the blue water of the cove where they had found the mooring pipe. From above they saw a reinforced concrete dome rising out of the grey clayey soil. Beside it protruded a concrete ventilation pipe covered with an iron grating. On the other side of the dome a pipe covered with a flaky film of oxide jutted out of the ground. Nikolai ran his hands over the rough surface of the pipe. "Looks like the exhaust pipe of an engine," he said. On the slope there was a depression that led to a massive steel door. A large lock wrapped in a piece of oily cloth hung on the door. A lead seal dangled from the lock. "I should certainly like to know what it all means," Yura remarked at sight of the seal. "Look!" Rita exclaimed. "What's the matter with Rex?" The dog was sniffing the sand near the door and whining. Then he ran to one side and started digging into the pebbles. "This looks like an old pillbox," Nikolai said thoughtfully. "There may have been an antiaircraft gun here during the war. Now the pillbox is being used for something else. Perhaps a storehouse." "Let's forget about it," said Yura. "This must be something very hush-hush. It's no business of ours." "What's that dog growling about? Rex, come here," Rita called. "Take it easy, old boy. We're going home now." A week passed. A cloudless sky stretched above Ipaty Island. The sea, alas, was deserted. Neither a wisp of smoke nor a glimpse of a sail appeared on the horizon. Making a raft out of different-sized logs was a slow process for the inexperienced builders. After much effort and many arguments the logs were selected and neatly tied together. The sliding keel, made out of pieces of board, required just as much effort. The spanker boom from the boat, fastened down with shrouds and a stay, was the mast. A steering oar made of two long poles and the seat of a chair, all gifts of the sea, wore attached to the stern. All day long an axe tapped, a hack-saw whined, and songs rang out on the reef where work was in progress on the raft. The fish were biting well. Just in case, the girls strung the fish on cords and hung it up to dry in the sun and the wind, the oldest way there is of curing fish. It was not long, though, before all of them were sick and tired of their fish diet. "But it's good for you," Rita scolded when she saw Yura toss a half-eaten piece over his shoulder. "Fish has lots of phosphorus; it's the best brain food." "There's nothing I'd like better right now than some sausage," Yura said with a sigh. Rex was also tired of fish. He ran about the island hunting lizards and water snakes, partly for the fun of it. Sometimes he sniffed about the reinforced concrete dome and threw up pebbles with his paws-always at one and the same spot. Nikolai and Yura were intrigued by the dog's odd behaviour. They deepened the hole Rex had dug, and about a metre below the surface of the clayey soil they found the body of a dog. Yura gave a whistle. "This dog was dissected!" he exclaimed. "A desert island and experiments on dogs!" Nikolai said. "I'd certainly like to know what's going on here." Widening the hole, they found that several other dogs had been buried there. Rex alternately growled and whined piteously, pressing close to Yura's leg. They filled in the hole and stamped on the earth when they had finished. When Nikolai returned to camp and told the others about their queer find a shadow fell across Rita's face. "Experiments on dogs?" she repeated. She said nothing more for the rest of the day. In the evening, alone with Nikolai beside the signal campfire, she said, "I can't stand it any longer. I simply must return to town." "The raft's ready," said Nikolai. "As soon as we get a south wind-" "Suppose we don't for another week?" Nikolai did not reply. What could he say? There had been a dead calm for days. Even the flames in the campfire hardly flickered at all. In the red glow from the fire Nikolai looked remote and estranged. Rita turned her head to glance about forlornly at the night; the familiar pounding of the surf rang in her ears. "He also experimented on dogs," she said in a low voice. "He did?" Nikolai looked at Rita, then turned his eyes away. An odd thought had occurred to him. What if- Rita was thinking the same thing. Anatole often went away to some sort of secret laboratory for long periods of time. He had never told Rita where the laboratory was. "You made me promise, Rita, so I'm not saying anything. But we're not doing the right thing. The whole matter should be brought out into the open. Those t