Well, there was no use in being wise after the event, and, scheme as he might, he could devise no way to avoid disaster during the next attack.
This, he felt certain, would take place at night.

The Dyaks would land in force, rush the cave and hut, and overpower him by sheer numbers.
The fight, if fight there was, would be sharp, but decisive.

Perhaps, if he received some warning, Iris and he might retreat in the darkness to the cover of the trees.

A last stand could be made among the boulders on Summit Rock.

But of what avail to purchase their freedom until daylight?
And then---- If ever man wrestled with desperate problem, Jenks wrought that night.
He smoked and pondered until the storm passed, and, with the changefulness of a poet's muse, a full moon flooded the island in glorious radiance.