Kazu crossed the flat eastern half of Yat in less than a minute, evidently wishing to get out of range of Rau's artillery as quickly as possible. His feet tore through the groves as a normal man's might through a field of clover; indeed, he experienced more trouble from the softness of the ground than from any vegetation. As we were soon to learn, one of the disadvantages of Kazu's size lay in the mechanical properties of the world as experienced by him. Kazu stood almost 600 feet high, or roughly 100 times the linear dimensions of a normal man. From the simple laws of geometry, this increased his weight by 100³ or 1 million times. But the area of his body, including the soles of his feet which had to support this gigantic load, had increased by but 100², or ten thousand times. The ground pressure under his feet was thus 100 times greater, for each square inch, than for a normal man. The result was that Kazu sank into the ground at each step until he reached bedrock, or soil strong enough to carry the load.

At the beach he hesitated briefly, as though getting his bearings, and then waded into the ocean. The surf which had used us so violently was to him only a half inch ripple. He strode through the shallows and past the reef in a matter of seconds, and then plunged into deeper water. From our dizzy perch, now carried at hip height, we watched the great feet drive down into the sea, leaving green walls of solid water about them.

Although we did not realize it at the time, we later learned that Kazu's wading forays were attended by tidal waves which inundated islands up to a hundred miles away. This trip across a twenty mile strait swamped a dozen native fishing craft, flooded out four villages and killed some hundreds of people.

We fared better than some of these innocent bystanders, for Kazu carefully held our steel box above the sea, and presently lurched through shallow water to the dry land.

The new island was larger than Yat, and entirely given over to rice growing for Kazu's food supply. He threaded his way easily among the paddies, up through some low hills, and then down a narrow gorge into the sea again.

Ahead lay a much more extensive body of water. The sun was now hardly fifteen degrees above the horizon, and its glare plus a bank of clouds made it difficult to see the distant land. Kazu raised our room to the level of his face.

"Is that Island of Celebes?"

Baker started to pick up the microphone, and then abruptly realizing that it was dead, he shouted back from the projection port.

"I think it is. Let me look for a chart."

Kazu waited patiently while we searched, placing the room on a hilltop to give us a steadier platform. We all began a mad scramble in the mass of debris. Kazu removed the roof to give more light, but it soon became clear that there wasn't much hope. All that we could find were thousands of slides of the Chinese classics. At last we gave up. When we told Kazu this, he looked across the water and wrinkled his brow. We could sense the reason for his anxiety, for the distant shore could hardly be less than seventy miles away. Mentally I reduced this to terms I could understand. Seven tenths of a mile, of which an unknown percentage might be swimming.

Kazu's voice rumbled down to us, "I would prefer to wade. I cannot swim well." He peered down into our roofless box anxiously.

"If we only had one chart," began Baker, when Walt, who had been rummaging near the projector window, called to us.

"Take a look over there, just around the point."

We saw the prow of a ship. There was a moment of terror lest it be an Indonesian coast patrol, and then we saw that it was just a small island steamer of a thousand tons or so, chugging along less than two miles offshore.

I don't think the people in the little ship even saw us until we were practically upon them, because of the mist and sunset glare. What they thought I can only imagine, for the water was little more than knee deep and Kazu towered fully four hundred feet above it. Then a hand as big as the foredeck reached down and gently stopped them by the simple expedient of forming a V between thumb and fingers into which the prow pushed. I heard the sound of bells and saw tiny figures scurrying about on the deck. On the opposite side a number of white specks appeared in the water as crewmen dove overboard. Our box was now lowered until its door was next to the bridge. We leaped aboard, under cover of a great hand which obligingly plucked away the near wall of the pilot house. We entered the house just as the captain beat a precipitate retreat out the other side, and after a moment in the chartroom we found what we wanted. While Martin stood watch at the far door, we took advantage of the electric lights to examine the chart of the east coast of Celebes. That island, we found, was only sixty miles away and the deepest sounding was less than six hundred feet. Kazu could wade the whole distance.

The journey across Celebes took only a couple of hours, and so, by noon, we stood on the shore of the strait of Macassar, looking across seventy-five miles of blue water to the mountains of Borneo.

It was not until now that Baker explained what he had in mind in choosing this particular route.

"We're going to Singapore," he said. "Get under the protection of the Royal Navy and Air Force before the commies spot us and start dropping bombs and rockets. If Buddha wants to see the world, he'd better start by getting a good bodyguard."

Kazu seemed agreeable when appraised of this plan, and so we began to plot a more detailed route over the 1,100 miles between us and the British crown colony. We stood at the narrowest part of the strait, but unfortunately most of it was too deep for Kazu to wade. Reference to the charts showed that by going 250 miles south, we would reduce the swim to about 30 miles, or the equivalent of some 500 yards for a normal man. To this was added a wade of 120 miles through shallows and over the many small Balabalagan Islands.

Suddenly Kazu's hand swept down and came up with a 60-foot whale, which he devoured in great gory bites. After this midocean lunch, Kazu resumed his wading. In the middle of the strait the depth exceeded five thousand feet, and he had to swim for a time, after fastening our box to his head by means of the trailing cables.

At length the sea became shallow once more, Kazu's feet crunched through coral, and the coast of Borneo appeared dimly ahead. We were all taking time for the luxury of a sigh of relief when Chamberlin screamed a warning.

"Planes! Coming in low at three o'clock!"

Fortunately Kazu heard this also, although the language confused him. Precious seconds were wasted while he held the box up to his face for more explicit directions. The planes, a flight of six, were streaking towards us just above the wavetops. We could see that they carried torpedoes, and it was not difficult to guess their intentions.

"Go sideways!" Baker yelled, but Kazu did not move. He simply stood facing the oncoming aircraft, our box held in his left hand at head level, and his right arm hanging at his side, half submerged. Either Kazu was too frightened to move, or he did not understand the danger. The planes were hardly a half mile away now, evidently holding their fire until the last moment to insure a hit. What even one torpedo could do I didn't dare to contemplate, and here were twelve possible strikes. After all, Kazu was made of flesh, and after having seen the effect of TNT on the steel side of a ship, I had little doubt as to what would happen to him.

Now the last seconds were at hand. The planes were closing at five hundred yards, the torpedoes would drop in a second.... But suddenly Kazu moved. His whole body swung abruptly to the left and at the same time the right hand came up through the water. We, of course, were pitched headlong, but we did briefly glimpse a tremendous fan of solid green water rising up to meet the planes. They tried to dodge but it was too late. Into the waterspout they flew, all six with their torpedoes still attached, and down into the ocean they fell, broken and sinking. It was all over in a moment. We were so amazed it was moments before we could move.

Kazu turned and resumed his stroll toward Borneo without a single backward glance at the havoc wrought by his splash.

And so we climbed dripping from the Straits of Macassar, and entered the mists and jungles of Borneo.

Our course toward Singapore carried us across the full width of southern Borneo, a distance, from a point north of Kotabaroe to Cape Datu, of almost six hundred miles.

After about an hour, the blue outlines of the Schwanner Mountains appeared ahead and presently we passed quite close to Mt. Raya, which at 7,500 feet was the greatest mountain Kazu had ever seen. Then, dropping into another valley, we followed the course of the Kapuas River for a time, and finally turned west again through an area of plantations. Here Kazu made an effort to secure food by plucking and eating fruit and treetops together. The result was unsatisfactory, but presently we came upon a granary containing thousands of sacks of rice. The workmen, warned by our earthquake approach, fled long before we reached it. Kazu carefully removed the corrugated iron roof and ate the whole contents of the warehouse, which amounted to about a handful. The sacks appeared about a quarter of an inch in length, and seemed to be filled with a fine white powder.

Following this meal, Kazu drained a small lake, getting incidentally a goodly catch of carp, although he could not even taste them. Then, since it was now late in the afternoon, he turned northwest to the hills to spend the night.

The last part of the journey was almost entirely through shallow water—three hundred miles of the warm South China Sea. Baker planned to make a before dawn start, so that we might be close to the Malay Peninsula before daylight could expose us to further attack. Kazu suggested pushing on at once, but Baker did not think it wise to approach the formidable defenses of Singapore by night. And so for a second time we sought out an isolated valley where Kazu could snuggle between two soft hills, and we could get what sleep was possible in the wreckage of the projection room.

The China Sea passage was made without incident. We started at three A.M. in a downpour of rain, and by six, at dawn, the low outline of the Malay Peninsula came into sight. We made our landfall some forty miles north of Singapore, and at once cut across country toward Johore Bahru and the great British crown colony.

The rice paddies, roads and other signs of civilization were a welcome sight, and I was already relaxing, mentally, in a hot tub at the officers club when the awakening came. It came in the form of a squadron of fighter planes carrying British markings which roared out of the south without warning and passed Kazu's head with all their guns firing. Fortunately neither his eyes nor our thin shelled box was hit, but Kazu felt the tiny projectiles which penetrated even his twelve inch hide. As the planes wheeled for another pass he called out in English that he was a friend, but of course the pilots could not hear above the roar of their jets. On the second try two of the planes released rockets, which fortunately missed, but this put a different light on the whole thing. A direct hit with a ten inch rocket would be as dangerous as a torpedo. Baker tried to yell some advice, but there was no chance before the planes came in again. This time Kazu waved, and finally threw a handful of earth and trees at them. The whole squadron zoomed upwards like a covey of startled birds.

By the time we had reached a temporary haven, Kazu was thoroughly winded, and we were battered nearly insensible. Baker, in fact, was out cold. Kazu slowed down, and then finding no directions or advice forthcoming, he resumed a steady dogtrot to the north. Martin and I tried to draw Baker to a safer position beside the projector, but in the process one of the steel shelves collapsed, adding Martin to the casualty list. Walt and I then attempted to drag the two of them to safety, but in the midst of these efforts a particularly hard lurch sent me headfirst into the projector, and my interest in proceedings thereupon became nil. Walt, battered and seasick, gave up and collapsed with the rest of us. Further efforts at communication by Kazu proved fruitless. Buddha was on his own.