The Sound of the Shell

           Theboywithfairhairloweredhimselfdownthelastfewfeetofrock andbegantopickhiswaytowardthelagoon. Thoughhehadtakenoffhisschoolsweater andtraileditnowfromonehand, hisgreyshirtstucktohim andhishairwasplasteredtohisforehead. Allroundhimthelongscarsmashedintothejunglewasabathofheat. Hewasclamberingheavilyamongthecreepersandbrokentrunks whenabird,avisionofredandyellow,flashedupwards withawitch-likecry; andthiscrywasechoedbyanother. 

           "Hi!"itsaid. "Waitaminute!" Theundergrowthatthesideofthescarwasshakenandamultitudeofraindropsfellpattering. 

           "Waitaminute,"thevoicesaid. "Igotcaughtup." 

           Thefairboystopped andjerkedhisstockingswithanautomaticgesture thatmadethejungleseemforamomentliketheHomeCounties. 

           Thevoicespokeagain. 

           "Ican’thardlymovewithallthesecreeperthings." 

           Theownerofthevoicecamebackingoutoftheundergrowth sothattwigsscratchedonagreasywind-breaker. Thenakedcrooksofhiskneeswereplump,caughtandscratchedbythorns. Hebentdown,removedthethornscarefully,andturnedaround. Hewasshorterthanthefairboyandveryfat. Hecameforward,searchingoutsafelodgmentsforhisfeet,andthenlookedupthroughthickspectacles. 

           "Where’sthemanwiththemegaphone?"