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Ralph felt his knee against something hard and rocked a charred trunk that was edgy to the touch. He felt the sharp cinders that had been bark push against the back of his knee and knew that Roger had sat down. He felt with his hands and lowered himself beside Roger, while the trunk rocked among invisible ashes. Roger, uncommunicative by nature, said nothing. He offered no opinion on the beast nor told Ralph why he had chosen to come on this mad expedition. He simply sat and rocked the trunk gently. Ralph noticed a rapid and infuriating tapping noise and realized that Roger was banging his silly wooden stick against something.
So they sat, the rocking, tapping, impervious Roger and Ralph, fuming; round them the close sky was loaded with stars, save where the mountain punched up a hole of blackness.
There was a slithering noise high above them, the sound of someone taking giant and dangerous strides on rock or ash. Then Jack found them, and was shivering and croaking in a voice they could just recognize as his.
“I saw a thing on top.”
They heard him blunder against the trunk which rocked violently. He lay silent for a moment, then muttered.
“Keep a good lookout. It may be following.”
A shower of ash pattered round them. Jack sat up.
“I saw a thing bulge on the mountain.”
“You only imagined it,” said Ralph shakily, “because nothing would bulge. Not any sort of creature.”
Roger spoke; they jumped, for they had forgotten him.
“A frog.”
Jack giggled and shuddered.
“Some frog. There was a noise too. A kind of ‘plop’ noise. Then the thing bulged.”
Ralph surprised himself, not so much by the quality of his voice, which was even, but by the bravado of its intention.
“We’ll go and look.”
For the first time since he had first known Jack, Ralph could feel him hesitate.
“Now—?”
His voice spoke for him.
“Of course.”
He got off the trunk and led the way across the clinking cinders up into the dark, and the others followed.
Now that his physical voice was silent the inner voice of reason, and other voices too, made themselves heard. Piggy was calling him a kid. Another voice told him not to be a fool; and the darkness and desperate enterprise gave the night a kind of dentist's chair unreality.
As they came to the last slope, Jack and Roger drew near, changed from the ink-stains to distinguishable figures. By common consent they stopped and crouched together. Behind them, on the horizon, was a patch of lighter sky where in a moment the moon would rise. The wind roared once in the forest and pushed their rags against them.
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