Free Danny Dunn on a Desert Island by Jay Williams Page B

don’t already know it, and haven’t just been biding their time. We must make weapons. And we must surround the camp with traps so they can’t come on us at night, without warning.”
    Professor Bullfinch tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth. “Well,” he said at last, “I suppose there’s some sense in that. What do you boys think?”
    â€œWhat’s the difference what they think?” Dr. Grimes snapped.
    â€œWe’re all in this together, Grimes,” the Professor replied. “If they’re to be eaten with us, they should vote with us. Well, boys?”
    â€œI vote to be prepared,” said Danny.
    â€œSo do I—and I don’t mean as a dish,” said Joe.
    They began by making two more spears, like those the boys already had. Then they cut some shorter sticks and fastened chunks of stone into clefts at one end of them to make a kind of rude war club. They boys cut quantities of thorny branches, and piled them along the ridge of rock, leaving a narrow entranceway so that they could go for water.
    Dr. Grimes had been drawing diagrams on a bit of paper. “I have developed a man trap,” he said, “which we can set at night. Come with me. I’ll demonstrate it.”
    He found a tall, springy sapling growing beside their trail to the banana grove. Using some of the nylon rope, he made a large noose and fastened it to the top of the young tree. Then he bent the tree down and pegged the lower part of the noose to the ground with two wooden hooks.
    â€œAnyone running along this trail,” he explained, “will hit the lower edge of the noose. The pegs will jerk out, and the noose will close on him and hoist him up.”
    â€œIsn’t that rather drastic?” the Professor remarked. “It might kill a native, and we’re really not at war with them.”
    â€œNot at all. It can’t really hurt anyone,” Dr. Grimes returned. “As you can see, it is tripped in such a way that it closes around the body and holds a man helpless.”
    â€œVery ingenious,” said the Professor. “How did you ever happen to think of such a thing?”
    â€œWhy, I—er—” Dr. Grimes reddened. Then he said, “To tell the truth, I read about it in a book called Simba, the Jungle Lad , when I was eleven years old.”
    Joe scratched his head. “I don’t know whether we ought to give Dr. Grimes a notch, or give it to Simba instead,” he grinned.
    â€œOh, let’s not be fussy,” said the Professor. “Give it to your pal, Dr. Grimes.”
    They made two more of these traps on the hill slope. Then Joe cut an elaborate notch in the doctor’s tally stick.
    Dinner was a rather quiet meal, for they were all busy with their own thoughts, chiefly about the islanders. What kind of people would they be? Were they cannibals, or would they be gentle and timid?
    Danny was even more silent than the others, for he could not escape feeling that it was all in some way his fault. He so often acted without thinking first. Professor Bullfinch had told him many times that this was not how a scientist should behave, and he always made good resolves never to do it again. But somehow an exciting idea would occur to him, or a situation would arise that seemed terribly interesting, and he would find himself plunging into action without a thought for the consequences.
    And here was another instance. If he hadn’t rushed off so heedlessly, they would still have their radio. And if he hadn’t taken the arrow, the natives might never have known they were on the island. He groaned within himself, and looked at his wooden spear and club. What good would makeshift weapons like these do against a hundred howling, hungry savages?
    When they all went to bed, he couldn’t sleep but tossed and turned until Joe grumbled and begged him to settle down. Danny slipped out of the lean-to and sat by the fire,