mind registered a mental titter, this time from more than one member of the audience....

... Gunnar reached out to quiet the growling dog, but Frankie was gone. Instead his hand encountered Martha's and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. He listened, hardly breathing.

From just outside the cave came the peculiar faint sound made only by split-toed Japanese shoes.

"This is it," he whispered as he pressed Martha's pistol into her hand. "They've found us. Better save one shot for yourself."

Flashlights glimmered around the bend of the cave and the clothing hanging from the rocks shuddered and fell as a burst of Nambu fire roared. A Jap ran toward the huddled garments, chattering wildly.

Gunnar knew they could hope only to take as many Nips as possible with them. Even as he opened fire he could hear Martha's pistol start up beside him. The first Japs went down.

Then his pistol clicked empty.

"Just one more," Gunnar prayed as he threw the useless weapon into the nearest yellow face and drew his knife for a final charge.

He expected to be met by a burst of fire as he stepped out, but the bullets did not come. Instead a Jap tripped and kicked at something near his feet, then tumbled violently backward with his hands coming up as though to protect his face. The Jap started to scream but stopped abruptly as blood spurted from a throat suddenly raw and mangled. A snarling growl echoed through the cave.

A snarling growl echoed through the cave.

Another Nip went down, struggling with something invisible.

Panic gripped the Jap patrol. Two surviving soldiers broke and ran, but the lieutenant in charge snatched up a gun. Bullets whined off the rocks as he fired wildly, without a target.

All at once Frankie lay in the middle of the floor, his spine shattered by a chance bullet but his fangs still bared in a snarl of defiance. The Jap kicked at the dog, then jumped aside and stared unbelievingly as his outlines blurred momentarily. He kicked again with deliberate brutality, and the dog gave one convulsive shudder and lay still.

Without conscious volition Gunnar raised his arm. Twenty feet away bones crunched under the brass handle-studs of the trench knife. Gunnar felt 

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