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"But someone told me to run."

Jean and George glanced at each other in mild alarm.

"You mean-you imagined you heard something?"

"Oh, don't bother him now," said Jean anxiously, and with a little too much haste. But George was stubborn.

"I want to get to the bottom of this. Tell me just what happened, Jeff."

"Well, I was right down the beach, by that old wreck, when the voice spoke."

"What did it say?"

"I can't quite remember, but it was something like 'Jeffrey, get up the hill as quickly as you can. You'll be drowned if you stay here.' I'm sure it called me Jeffrey, not Jeff. So it couldn't have been anyone I knew."

"Was it a man's voice? And where did it come from?"

"It was ever so close beside me. And it sounded like a man…" Jeff hesitated for a moment, and George prompted him.

"Go on-just imagine that you're back on the beach, and tell us exactly what happened."

"Well, it wasn't quite like anyone I've ever heard talking before. I think he was a very big man."

"Is that all the voice said?"

"Yes-until I started to climb the hill. Then another funny thing happened. You know the path up the cliff?"

"Yes."

"I was running up that, because it was the quickest way. I knew what was happening now, for I'd seen the big wave coming in. It was making an awful noise, too. And then I found there was a great big rock in the way. It wasn't there before, and I couldn't get past it."

"The quake must have brought it down," said George.

"Shush! Go on, Jeff."

"I didn't know what to do, and I could hear the wave coming closer. Then the voice said 'Close your eyes, Jeffrey, and put your hand in front of your face.' It seemed a funny thing to do, but I tried it. And then there was a great flash-I could feel it all over-and when I opened my eyes the rock was gone."

"Gone?"

"That's right-it just wasn't there. So I started running again, and that's when I nearly burnt my feet, because the path was awful hot. The water hissed when it went over it, but it couldn't catch me then-I was too far up the cliff. And that's all. I came down again when there weren't any more waves. Then I found that my bike had gone, and the road home had been knocked down."

"Don't worry about the bicycle, dear," said Jean, squeezing her, son thankfully. "We'll get you another one. The only thing that matters is that you're safe. We won't worry about how it happened."

That wasn't true, of course, for the conference began immediately they had left the nursery. It decided nothing, but it had two sequels. The next day, without telling George, Jean took her small son to the colony's child psychologist. He listened carefully while Jeff repeated his story, not in the least over-awed by his novel surroundings. Then, while his unsuspecting patient rejected seriatim the toys in the next room, the doctor reassured Jean.

"There's nothing on his card to suggest any mental abnormality. You must remember that he's been through a terrifying experience, and he's come out of it remarkably well. He's a highly imaginative child, and probably believes his own story. So just accept it, and don't worry unless there are any later symptoms. Then let me know at once."

That evening, Jean passed the verdict on to her husband. He did not seem as relieved as she had hoped, and she put it down to worry over the damage to his beloved theatre. He just grunted "That's fine" and settled down with the current issue of Stage and Studio. It looked as if he had lost interest in the whole affair, and Jean felt vaguely annoyed with him.

But three weeks later, on the first day that the causeway was reopened, George and his bicycle set off briskly towards Sparta.

The beach was still littered with masses of shattered coral, and in one place the reef itself seemed to have been breached. George wondered how long it would take the myriads of patient polyps to repair the damage.

There was only one path up the face of the dliff, and when he had recovered his breath George began the climb. A few dried fragments of weed, trapped among the rocks, marked the limit of the ascending waters.

For a