Lost Men in the Moon
His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a sudden lack of assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it … somewhere … about there .”
He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc.
“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. “Anyhow,” he said, with his eyes on me, “it can’t be far.”
We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in the twining, thickening jungle round about us.