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Silence was the only answer.

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“Samneric? What about you?”

“We ought to go an' tell Piggy—”

“—yes, tell Piggy that—”

“But Simon went!”

“We ought to tell Piggy—in case—”

“Robert? Bill?”

They were going straight back to the platform now. Not, of course, that they were afraid—but tired.

Ralph turned back to Jack.

“You see?”

“I'm going up the mountain.” The words came from Jack viciously, as though they were a curse. He looked at Ralph, his thin body tensed, his spear held as if he threatened him.

“I'm going up the mountain to look for the beast—now.” Then the supreme sting, the casual, bitter, word. “Coming?”

At that word the other boys forgot their urge to be gone and turned back to sample this fresh rub of two spirits in the dark. The word was too good, too bitter, too successfully daunting to be repeated. It took Ralph at low water when his nerve was relaxed for the return to the shelter and the still, friendly waters of the lagoon.

“I don't mind.”

Astonished, he heard his voice come out, cool and casual, so that the bitterness of Jack's taunt fell powerless.

“If you don't mind, of course.”

“Oh, not at all.”

Jack took a step.

“Well then—”

Side by side, watched by silent boys, the two started up the mountain.

Ralph stopped.

“We're silly. Why should only two go? If we find anything, two won't be enough.”

There came the sound of boys scuttling away. Astonishingly, a dark figure moved against the tide.

“Roger?”

“Yes.”

“That's three, then.”

Once more they set out to climb the slope of the mountain. The darkness seemed to flow round them like a tide. Jack, who had said nothing, began to choke and cough, and a gust of wind set all three spluttering. Ralph's eyes were blinded with tears.

“Ashes. We're on the edge of the burnt patch.”

Their footsteps and the occasional breeze were stirring up small devils of dust. Now that they stopped again, Ralph had time while he coughed to remember how silly they were. If there was no beast—and almost certainly there was no beast—in tiiat case, well and good; but if there was something waiting on top of the mountain—what was the use of three of them, handicapped by the darkness and carrying only sticks?

“We're being fools.”

Out of the darkness came the answer.

“Windy?”

Irritably Ralph shook himself. This was all Jack's fault

“‘Course I am. But we're still being fools.”

“If you don't want to go on,” said the voice sarcastically,

Ralph heard the mockery and hated Jack. The sting of ashes in his eyes, tiredness, fear, enraged him. “Go on then! We’ll wait here.” There was silence.

“Why don't you go? Are you frightened?”

A stain in the darkness, a stain that was Jack, detached itself and began to draw away. “All right. So long.”




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CHAPTER SIX | The other knelt down. | Then as though they had but one terrified mind between them they scrambled away over the rocks and fled. | Sam took up the story. By custom now one conch did for both twins, for their substantial unity was recognized. | Ralph could no longer ignore his speech. The blood was hot in his cheeks. | Jack came trotting back. | His voice struck a silence among them. | Simon was speaking almost in his ear. Ralph found that he had rock painfully gripped in both hands, found his body arched, the muscles of his neck stiff, his mouth strained open. | The boar was floundering away from them. They found another pig-run parallel to the first and Jack raced away. Ralph was lull of night and apprehension and pride. | Once more Jack led them along by the suck and heave of the blinding sea. |


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