238 OVER ON THE ISLAND

to vanish . . . And the warning light twinkled once again on the northern point.

“Let’s camp here for the night, ” Jean suggested.

“O.K., let’s.”

It is true that the small things in life can be just as annoying and sometimes more so than the big things. So it was with us that evening. The little thing was a mosquito. The big thing was getting rid of him. There was only one, but he sounded like a regiment. Around and around he flew while I meditated all sorts of dire executions for his elusive frame. But none seemed to be diabolical enough for use on him. The mosquito made a. thorough and inquisitive search of our apartments. Its song of triumph echoed in the night air. I swung out. I missed. I whirled again. I missed, but the song of wrath resounded at an incalculable nearness. I was awake now, and deter- mined. My hands were poised; my ears pricked up; and every nerve taut. I would get him this time. I would! When he came just a little bit nearer, I would .

Slap!

“Got him!” said Jean contentedly.