The simple game was a constant from home, comforting, the normalcy of it welcome. Simon was stifling a laugh as the other boys tirelessly sought him on the hill while he hid in the creepers.

"Have you found him? Where could he be? Simon must've found a great hiding place! We'll find him, don't you worry!"

Their excitement rose as the trail of crushed creepers was found and they whooped and hollered. Simon was on his knees in the creepers, not realizing that he had left a trail of destruction in his wake. He leaped to his feet having been tipped off by the joyous noises that something had given away his location. Simon dashed forward, broke through the brambles and leaped off the low edge of the rock to the sand by the water. At once the crowd rushed after him, scurried down the rock, leapt onto Simon, the last to be found, yelled, laughed, hugged, tickled. There were no words, and no movements but the boys tickling fingers and the squirming of Simon as he laughed under the relentless attack.

Then the sun burst through the clouds and shone like a spotlight from the heavens. The spread on the mountain-top like a foggy breath on a window on a cold day, causing the dewy leaves to glitter and the branches on the trees to cast funny looking shadows on the forest floor, poured like a warm shower over the giggling heap on the sand. Presently the heap broke up and figures wandered away. Only Simon lay still, a few yards from the sea. In the beautiful sunlight they could see how happy Simon was that he had won; and his laughter was still ringing through the air. Not once did they think of any beast, for they knew that there was no such thing. Only scared little kids and savages would give something like that a second thought, and they weren't scared and they certainly weren't savages. Why would they turn savage anyway?