down. Soon after that he spoke to Wolfe, and Wolfe went to the wheel while Guido went to douse the lights and then returned to his post. There wasn't a glimmer anywhere on the boat. I stood up to look ahead, and I have damn good eyes, but I had just decided that if there should be anything ahead I wouldn't 111 see it anyway, when I saw something pop up to shut off a star. I turned to Wolfe. 'This is Guide's boat, and he's running it, but we're headed straight for something big.' 'Certainly we are. Montenegro.' I looked at my watch. 'Five after twelve. Then we're on time?' 'Yes.' He didn't sound enthusiastic. 'Will you please help me with this thing?' I went and helped him on with his knapsack and then got mine on. After a little the engine changed tune again, slower and much quieter. The thing ahead was a lot higher and had spread out at the sides, and it kept going up. When it was nearly on top of us Guido left the wheel, ran in and killed the engine, came out and glided around the cabin to the bow, and in a moment there was a big splash. He came gliding back and untied the ropes that lashed the dinghy to the stern. I helped him turn the dinghy over, and we slid it into the water and pulled it alongside. This maneuver had been discussed on the way over, and Wolfe had informed me of the decision. On account of the displacement of Wolfe's weight, it would be safer for Guido to take him ashore first and come back for me, but that would take an extra twenty minutes and there was 112 an outside choice Aat one of Tito's coastguard boats would happen along, and if it did, not only would Guido lose his boat but also he would probably never see Italy again. So we were to make it in one trip. Guido held the dinghy in, and I took Wolfe's arm to steady him as he climbed over the side, but he shook w off, made it fairly neatly, and lowered himself in the stern. I followed and perched i' the bow. Guido stepped down in the middle, light as a feather, shipped the oars, and rowed. He muttered something, and Wolfe spoke to me in an undertone. 'We have twelve centimeters above the water amidship8 -- about five inches. Don't bounce.' 'Aye, aye, sir.' Guide's oars were as smooth as velvet, making no sound at all in the water and only a faint squeak in the rowlocks, which were just notches in the gunwale. As I was riding backward in the bow -- and not caring to twist around for a look, under the circumstances -- the news that we had made it came to me from Wolfe, not much above a whisper- 'Your left hand, Archie. The rock.' I saw no rock;> but in a second there it was at my elbow, a level slab a foot above 113 the gunwale. Flattening my palm on its surface, I held us in and eased us along until Guido could reach it too. Following the briefing I had been given, I climbed out, stretched out on the rock on my belly, extended a hand for Guido to moor to, and learned that he had a healthy grip. As we kept the dinghy snug to the rock, Wolfe engineered himself up and over and was towering above me. Guido released his grip and shoved off, and the dinghy disappeared into the night. I scrambled to my feet. I had been told not to talk, so I whispered, 'I'm turning on my flashlight.' 'No.' 'We'll tumble in sure as hell.' 'Keep close behind me. I know every inch of this. Here, tie this to my sack.' I took his sweater, passed a sleeve under the straps, and knotted it with the other sleeve. He moved across the slab of rock, taking it easy, and I followed. Since I was three inches taller I could keep straight behind and still have a view ahead, though it wasn't much of a view, with the only light from some scattered stars. We stepped off the level slab onto another that sloped up, and then onto one that sloped down. Then we started up again, with loose coarse gravel underfoot instead of solid rock. WTien it got 114 steeper Wolfe slowed up, and stopped now and then to get his breath. I wanted to warn him that he could be heard breathing for half a mile and therefore we might as well avoid a lot of stumbles by using a light, but decided it would be bad timing. The idea was to get as far inland as possible before daylight, because we were supposed to have come north through the mountains from Galichnik, and then west toward Cetinje, and therefore it was undesirable to be seen near the coast. Also there was a particular spot about ten miles in, southeast of Cetinje, where we wanted to get something done before dawn. Ten miles in four hours was only a lazy stroll, but not in the dark across mountains, with Wolfe for a pacemaker. He developed several annoying habits. Realizing that we were at the crest of a climb before I did, he would stop so abruptly that I had to brake fast not to bump into him. He would stumble going uphill but not down, which was unconventional, and I decided he did it just to be eccentric. He would stand still, with his head tilted back and swiveling from side to side, for minutes at a time, and when we were well away from the coast and undertones were permitted and I asked him what for, he muttered, 115 'Stars. My memory has withered.' The implication was that he was steering by them, and I didn't believe it. However, there were signs that he knew where he was, for instance, once at the bottom of a slope, after we had traveled at least eight miles, he turned sharply right, passed between two huge boulders where there was barely room for him, picked a way among a jungle of jagged rocks, stopped against a wall of rock that went straight up, extended his hands to it, and bent his head. Sound more than sight told me what he was doing, he had his hands cupped under a trickle of water coming down, and was drinking. I took a turn at it too and found it a lot better than what came from the faucet in Bari. After that I quit wondering if we were lost and just roaming around for the exercise. No hint of dawn had shown when, on a fairly level stretch, he decelerated until he was barely moving, finally stopped, and turned and asked what time it was. I looked at my wrist and said a quarter past four. 'Your flashlight,' he said. I drew it from a loop on my belt and switched it on, and he did the same with his. 'You may have to find this spot without me,' he said, 'so you'd better take it in.' He aimed his light to the left down a slope. 'That one stone 116 should do it -- curled like the tail of a rooster. Put your light on it. There's no other like it between Budva and Podgorica. Get it indelibly.' It was thirty yards away, and I approached over rough ground for a better look. Jutting up to three times my height, one corner swept up in an arc, and it did resemble a rooster's tail if you wanted to use your fancy. I moved my light up and down and across, and, using the light to return to Wolfe, saw that we were on a winding trail. 'Okay.' I told him. 'Where?' 'This way.' He left the trail in the other direction and soon was scrambling up a steep slope. Fifty yards from the trail he stopped and aimed his light up at a sharp angle. 'Can you make it up to that ledge?' It looked nearly perpendicular, twenty feet above our heads. 'I can try,' I said rashly, 'if you stand where you'll cushion me when I fall.' 'Start at the right.' He pointed. 'There. Kneeling on the ledge, the crevice will be about at your eye level, running horizontally. As a boy I used to crawl inside it, but you can't. It slopes down a little from twelve inches in. Put it in as far as you can reach, and poke it farther back with your flashlight. When you come to retrieve it you'll have to 117 have a stick to fork it out with. You must bring the stick along because you won't find one anywhere near here.' As he talked I was opening my pants and pulling up my sweater and shirt to get at the money belt. Preparations for this performance had been made at Bari, wrapping the bills, eight thousand dollars of them, in five tight little packages of oilskin, and putting rubber bands around them. I stuffed them into my jacket pockets and took off my knapsack. 'Call me Tensing,' I said, and went to the point indicated and started up. Wolfe changed positions to get a better angle for me with his light. I hooked my fingertips onto an inchwide rim as high as I could reach, got the edge of my sole on another rim two feet up, and pulled, and there was ten per cent of it already done. The next place for a foot was a projecting knob, which I made with no trouble, but then my foot slipped off and I was back at the bottom. Wolfe spoke. 'Take off your shoes.' 'I am,' I said coldly. 'And socks.' It wasn't too bad that way, just plenty bad enough. The ledge, when I finally made it, was at least ten inches wide. I called down to him, 'You said to kneel. You come up and kneel. I'd like to see you.' 118 'Not so loud,' he said. By clinging to a crack with one hand I managed to get the packages from my pockets with the other and push them into the crevice as far as my arm would go, and to slip the flashlight from its loop and shove them back. Getting the flashlight back into the loop with one hand was impossible, and I put it in a jacket pocket. I twisted my head to look at the way back and spoke again. 'I'll never make it down. Go get a ladder.'
'Hug it,' he said, 'and use your toes.' Of course it was worse than going up -- it always is -- but I made it. When I was on his level again he growled, 'Satisfactory.' Not bothering to reply, I sat down on a rock and played the flashlight over my feet. They weren't cut to the bone anywhere, just some bruises and scratches, and no real flow of blood. There was still some skin left on most of the toes. Putting my socks and shoes on, I became aware that my face was covered with sweat and reached for my handkerchief.
'Come on,' Wolfe said. 'Listen,' I told him. 'You wanted to get that lettuce cached before dawn, and it's there. But if there's any chance that I'll be sent to get it alone, we'd better not go on 119 until daylight. I'll recognize the rooster's tail, that's all right, but how will I find it if I've traveled both approaches in the dark?' 'You'll find it,' he declared. 'It's only two miles to Rijeka, and a trail all the way. I should have said very satisfactory. Come on.' He moved. I got up and followed. It was still pitch dark. In half a mile I realized that we were hitting no more upgrades, it was all down. In another half a mile it was practically level. A dog barked, not far off. There was space around us -- my eyes had accommodated to the limit, but I felt it rather than saw it -- and underfoot wasn't rock or gravel, more like packed earth. A little farther on Wolfe stopped, turned, and spoke. 'We've entered the valley of the Moracha.' He turned on his flashlight and aimed it ahead. 'See that fork in the trail? Left joins the road to Rijeka. We'll take it later, now we'll find a place to rest.' He turned the light off and moved. At the fork he went
