"Almost full," Scotty said.

The boys went on upstairs into their adjoining rooms. For a few minutes Rick tinkered with his camera equipment, then he went back down to the library and searched the shelves for something to read. He finally settled on W. Grey Walter's The Living Brain and carried it back up to his room.

He sat down in the old leather armchair and manipulated buttons on one arm. The light brightened to reading intensity, and the back tilted to the most comfortable position. He had wired the chair himself, and it fit him perfectly. He settled down to read.

Time passed as he lost himself in the clear, exciting descriptions in Dr. Walter's book. He heard a bell ring downstairs, but paid no attention. Then Scotty stuck his head in the door. "Rick! Your mother's calling you."

Rick sat up swiftly. It was true, and his mother had urgency in her voice.

He dropped the book and ran to the stairs, going down them three at a time. A strange, dark-haired man was standing in the hallway, and his mother, Barby, and Jan were waiting for him with strained white faces.

"Your father has been hurt," Mrs. Brant said with false calm. "He's on this gentleman's houseboat!"



CHAPTER XVI

The Vanishing Mermaids

Parnell Winston worked as Hartson Brant described his experience.

"There really isn't much to it," Mr. Brant said. "I started out for Whiteside in the fast boat."

Winston focused a flashlight into one eye, then the other.

"I was on the north side of North Cove when the boat smashed into something. I was thrown violently into the water."

Winston tested the scientist's reflexes, using a finger instead of the traditional rubber hammer.

"Apparently I was badly shaken up, because my memory becomes unclear at this point. I do recall being fished out of the water, and when I came to enough to recognize my surroundings, I was in a strange room. It turned out to be the cabin of the houseboat."

"Do you remember any strange sensations, or smells?" Winston asked.

Rick listened, his heart pounding.

"None. The people on the houseboat were most considerate. One of the men insisted that I get into some of his spare clothes, and I did so. One of the women—the wife of the man who came here, I believe—made me a cup of hot consomme. They told me I was apparently whole, no broken bones."

"They were very pleasant and helpful," Rick admitted.

The houseboaters had done just the right things, including coming to Spindrift for help rather than bringing the scientist home in the slow-moving and rather uncomfortable pram. Instead, Hartson Brant had waited on the houseboat while one of the men brought the pram to the island with a request that someone follow him back in a more comfortable boat.

Rick and Scotty had done so, and were almost limp with relief at finding the scientist apparently unhurt and comfortable.

"How does your head feel?" Parnell Winston demanded.

"Rather stuffy," the scientist admitted. "I'm finding it difficult to collect my thoughts. Parnell, why all these questions?"

The cyberneticist rubbed his bushy eyebrows with both hands, a habit he had when agitated. "Hartson, as you know, I am not a doctor of medicine. However, I do claim competence as a physiologist, and consequently bodily reactions are familiar to me. I believe you have been drugged."

"Drugged?" Rick's heart stopped momentarily.

"Yes. I've looked for the mark of a hypodermic needle, but there is none. If I'm correct, the drug was a light one, possibly amytal. Your reflexes are slower than normal, even taking the accident and subsequent shock into account, and your pupils react slowly."

Rick came to a sudden decision. He went to the desk and picked up the phone.

"What are you doing?" Hartson Brant demanded.

"I'm calling Steve Ames. We need help."

In a few minutes Rick had the agent on the wire and was giving him the details of the accident over the scrambler system. He concluded, "If Dad was drugged by the houseboaters, as Dr. Winston thinks, that means the enemy has his brain pattern!"

Steve Ames asked, "Is Winston there?"

"Yes."

"Ask him a question for me. Would the brain waves be considered quasi-optical?"

Steve meant would the waves be of such high frequency that they would act like light. Rick put the question to Winston.

"Tell Steve the answer is a qualified yes."

Rick repeated the information.

"All right. Then we must assume that the brain scrambler—or whatever you call it—can operate only from short distances, approximately to the horizon. Tell your father he is to get out of town. Have him pack a bag, then deliver him to the New York JANIG office. We'll take it from there. Got it?"

Rick had it. "How do I make sure we're not followed?"

Steve paused. "That's a tough one. Air travel would be surest. Do you have any landing lights on Spindrift?"

"No. Besides, it's a short runway, and only a pilot who knew the island could possibly land at night."

"I've got a pilot who knows it, so forget going to New York. Rig lights of some kind. You can put lights on the roof of the lab building, I'm sure. Then put a pair of lights at each side of the runway's end, so he'll know how far he can go. If you have nothing else, soak newspapers in gasoline. He'll buzz the island. That will be your signal to light up."

"Is Mike Malone the pilot?" Malone had landed there before.

"Yes. He'll take over. Just deliver your father intact."

"If we can," Rick said slowly. "Steve, suppose the enemy activates their machine when they hear the plane? Suppose they suspect he's getting away and turn on the mind reader?"

"We'll have to chance it. Best thing is to move fast. Get your father in with Mike, and let them clear out. I'll tell Mike to put distance between him and you as fast as he can."

"All right, Steve." There seemed to be no other way.

Rick turned to his father and Winston, and repeated the conversation.

"He's right, Hartson," Winston said. "You're in good enough shape to travel. Better get packed." The cyberneticist looked at Rick. "What did you call the enemy gadget? A mind reader? That's an odd name."

"I didn't think about it," Rick told him. "The name just popped into my mind. But doesn't the enemy machine read the patterns in peoples' minds, then erase them?"

"As good a name as any, I guess," Winston agreed. "Well, let's tell the others. Then you have work to do getting ready for the plane, Rick."

Mrs. Brant, after making sure that her husband was no more than slightly dazed, had been forced to turn her attention to Barby and Jan. The two girls were on the verge of sheer hysteria with fear for their fathers. Scotty had joined Mrs. Brant, in an effort to soothe the girls' frayed nerves. Now, as Rick opened the library door, he could see that the two pretty young faces were tear-streaked, but as calm as could be expected under the circumstances. Scotty looked worn out. Rick could only marvel at his mother. She could always be relied upon in a crisis.

Mrs. Brant listened to her son's report, then nodded firmly. "Steve is wise to insist, Rick. I'll help your father pack."

Rick beckoned to Scotty. "We have work to do. Let's start with the lab."

On the way, he filled Scotty in on the details of what had happened in the library. Then he asked, "How did you get the girls calmed down?"

Scotty shook his head wearily. "It wasn't fun. The poor kids are scared stiff. Remember they haven't been exposed to stuff as we have. To them, our stories are just exciting fun, because we leave out the rough parts. Now they're getting a taste of this business the way it really is."

"Did you say that?"

"That, and a thousand other things. Nothing did much good, and Mom couldn't make any headway, either. Another ten minutes of tears and the island would have been under water, honest. Finally I got rough. I told them we were all in this, and they were only creating a nuisance that complicated things and didn't help at all. Then Mom chimed in. You know how she does. Never raises her voice. She said real courage consisted of being terribly frightened, but trying to remain calm in spite of it. Then she said she was rapidly becoming ashamed of both of them. That did it. They stuck their chins in the air, wiped off the tears, and actually managed a smile."

"Good for them!" Rick exclaimed.

Inside the laboratory they went at once to the stockroom. Floodlights were stored there, among other items. Extension cords were plentiful, and there were electric outlets on the roof. In a few moments the boys had strung the lights and Rick had readjusted the board downstairs, so that all the lights were on a single circuit. That way, they could all be switched on or off at once.

Joe Blake came to watch. Rick explained what he was doing, and told Joe of Steve's conversation.

"I know," Joe said. "Steve called me on the radio. He didn't want us shooting Mike down for trying to land without warning. But how come you can cut circuits in and out like this?"

"We never know when an experiment will call for electric power in some unexpected place," Rick explained. "The main board is set up so we can do just about anything we need to. We can feed normal current in, or 440 volts, and we can cross-link the circuits any way we like."

Scotty checked Rick's work, then took the switch handle. He touched the contacts briefly, and there was a quick pulse of light as the roof lighted up and went dark again.

"I'll stand by here," Scotty said. "You stand by at the end of the runway. Are we going to use gasoline?"

"We'll have to. It would take a while to run power from the house and hook up lighting units. Gasoline will be quicker and easier. Let's go."

There was a supply of gasoline for the boats. Rick got a five-gallon can while Scotty collected newspapers. Two trash cans served as containers. The cans were filled with newspapers, then drenched in gasoline and placed at the last possible point of runway that could be used. If Mike overshot the containers he would land in the sea.

Rick worried about the problem of lighting the containers without getting burned, then went to the workshop and selected rags. He twisted the rags loosely and tied them together, poured gasoline into a bucket and soaked his rag fuse. The last step was to insert one end of the fuse in each can. When the time came, he would be between the cans, and he would light the center of the rag string. The fire would travel rapidly, because of the gasoline.

In case Mike was delayed for any great period, Rick kept the gasoline handy. He might have to wet down the cans and fuse again. He had forgotten to ask where Mike would come from, and Steve hadn't volunteered. Probably he would come from Washington, which meant about an hour's flying time in the plane Mike would use, a fast little four-place job that Rick had long coveted. But Mike wouldn't be ready for take-off instantly. Time had to be allowed for Steve to give him instructions, to get from wherever he was to the airport, and then get the plane gassed and ready. Allow another hour. That meant two hours in all.

Inside, Rick was still scared. How did they know the electronic mind reader wouldn't be activated at any moment? He hurried into the house and went upstairs to where his father was packing. He couldn't do anything, and he knew it. But it helped, just being near the scientist. Apparently Scotty felt the same. He had joined Hartson Brant, too. But Barby, Jan, and Mrs. Brant had preceded him.

The scientist smiled. "Never had so much help packing before."

The smile was strained, and Rick thought he knew why. He had seen his father face great physical danger without losing a bit of his composure. But the insidious weapon that could read all reason out of minds was far more horrible to a man like Hartson Brant than any physical danger could be. Bullets, knives, and clubs may leave bad wounds, or they may kill. But what chance is there for anyone with a damaged brain?

Scotty looked at his watch and held it up for Rick to see. Nearly an hour and three-quarters had passed since the call to Steve. Rick gestured to Scotty and urged, "Hurry, Dad."

"I'm ready." The scientist closed his bag. Barby got to it first and lugged it down the stairs, refusing Scotty's offer of help.

The boys went to their stations while the others waited on the porch. Rick checked to be sure he had matches, then worried because a wind had sprung up. Suppose it blew his match out? He was about to go borrow his father's lighter when he heard the far-off drone of a plane. There wasn't time now! He held the matches in his hand, ready.

The drone grew nearer, rising to a high whine. The plane was diving! Suddenly it was overhead and gone with a crash of sound. Rick saw its lights head out to sea. Mike was making a tight turn to come in for a landing.

Rick's lips formed the words. "Now, Scotty! Now!"

And, as though he had heard, Scotty threw the switch. Lights flared on the lab roof, outlining it clearly. Rick struck a match and held it to the saturated cord of rags. Flaming gasoline ran along the cord in both directions, ran up the sides of the cans. There was a loud whoosh of exploding gasoline, and both cans were ablaze. Rick ran away from the heat.

Mike came in low and fast over the lab roof and slapped the plane down on the turf. In a moment he applied the brakes and the wheels whined their protest as they dug up grass. Then the plane was rolling to a stop directly in front of the house.

The pilot jumped out and called, "Hello, gang! Come on, sir. No time to waste!"

Hartson Brant kissed Mrs. Brant and the girls, found time to pat Rick's shoulder, and climbed in. Rick took the suitcase from Barby and handed it to the scientist. The door closed and the plane was whirling, catching them in its prop blast. Mike taxied back fast to the laboratory, turned the plane and revved up, holding on the brakes. Rick saw Scotty emerge from the lab building and go right back in again as the prop wash caught him. Then the plane was rolling ... and lifting. Mike skimmed low over the burning trash cans, banked out to sea, and was gone.

Rick felt a sob rising in his throat and resolutely squelched it. He walked to the burning cans and dropped covers on them. Scotty cut the lights on the lab building.

Had they made it? They wouldn't know. Not until Steve reported that the scientist was safe.

On the porch, Barby asked, "How soon will we know?"

Rick was proud of her. Her voice had trembled only slightly. "Probably not until tomorrow, Sis. Come on. Let's all hike off to bed. It's been a rough evening."

"All right. Rick, we still don't know for sure, do we? About the people in the houseboat?"

"Not for sure. But we have a pretty good idea. How else would Dad get drugged?"

"Mightn't they have given him a sedative?" Jan asked. "That would have the same effect."

Rick hadn't thought of that. He admitted it was possible.

"I wish the radio trick had worked," Barby said sadly. "I wish we had some way of getting a radio on the houseboat. Then we could listen in on everything they said."

"No way of doing it," Rick said. He was very tired. "Forget it for now and let's all turn in. We can talk some more in the morning."

* * * * *

Steve Ames phoned at five o'clock in the morning. Rick had been sleeping lightly, his rest broken by nightmares that he couldn't remember when he awoke. He got to the phone in the hall. "Just a minute," he said. "Let me get downstairs to the switch."

The entire family was close on his heels as he went into the library. He threw the scrambler switch, then asked anxiously, "Yes, Steve?"

"Just had word, Rick, so I called in spite of the hour. Your father is safe inside the compound at Los Alamos. He's all right. And just as a precaution, he'll spend most of his time in a shielded area where no radio signal can penetrate. Now go on back to bed and get some sleep."

Rick thanked him gratefully. Los Alamos! That was one of the two main atomic energy weapons laboratories. No place in the United States was more closely guarded. Now he could be sure his father was safe as anyone could be.

He repeated the conversation to his anxious family. "Now," he said, echoing Steve's advice, "let's get back to bed. Perhaps we can really sleep for a change."

He did sleep. It was nearly noon before he awoke. He got up sleepily and found Scotty had just barely preceded him and was now taking a shower.

Downstairs, things were apparently normal. Mrs. Brant and Mrs. Morrison were at work on lunch, but since an hour was too long to wait, Rick had a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. He was careful not to choose Crummies. Scotty settled for three doughnuts and milk.

"Where are the girls?" Rick asked. "Still asleep?"

"They've gone swimming," Mrs. Morrison replied. "They should be back soon, though. They've been gone over an hour."

"I could use a swim myself," Rick admitted.

"Not me," Scotty said. "Wait until afternoon and I'll join you. That cold water would shock me into a state of galloping goose pimples the way I feel now."

Rick had forgotten how cold the water was. "Okay. We'll wait. Let's go over to the lab and take down the lights. I want to clean up the trash cans, too."

They walked leisurely over to the laboratory and stopped for a moment to chat with Joe Blake. Then, before starting on the lights, they walked around behind the lab building.

The laboratories were built on a promontory that sloped inland toward Pirate's Field, which was just above sea level. The raised area ran around the seaward side of the island, so that the Brant house was on high land, too. On the north side, the land sloped down toward the boat landing.

Rick stood on the edge of the low cliff and looked for Barby and Jan. They weren't in sight.

"They must be using lungs," Scotty said. "Watch for bubbles."

No bubbles were visible, either. Rick checked carefully and began to worry. It was a calm day with little wave action, and the bubbles from the lungs should have been clearly visible. Surely they wouldn't swim so far the bubbles couldn't be seen on a day like this.

"Let's check," Rick said.

The boys hurried to the room where the Scuba equipment was kept. Two lungs and the blue and white equipment were gone. So was the cart. A quick look at Pirate's Cove showed no cart in sight.

Where could they have gone? The boys hurried to the front of the lab building again and found Joe Blake still getting a bit of sunshine.

"Did you see the girls?" Rick asked hurriedly.

Joe nodded. He motioned across the island. "They came and got aqualungs and hauled the cart across to the north side. They're probably swimming over there."

Rick doubted it. He doubted it very much. The currents on the north side kept the bottom stirred up and visibility was too poor for diving.

Without the need of exchanging a word, Rick and Scotty were suddenly running. As they passed the house Rick had a sudden thought. He went in and ran up the stairs to his room, grabbed his radio unit and turned it on.

"Barby!" he called frantically. "Barby!"

There was no answer. Tucking the unit into his pocket, he ran out and joined Scotty again. If Barby had her set she wasn't using it.

"Come on." He led the way to the boat cove and stopped short. The speedboat was there, and so was the Scuba cart, but the rowboat wasn't. Anxiously he scanned the water. There was no sign of the girls.

Where were they? Where? The thought struck him. He remembered Barby's comment of the night before.

Had they gone to the houseboat?



CHAPTER XVII

Pointer to Disaster

Scotty ran to the speedboat and yelled, "Come on!"

"Wait!" Rick called. "Let's not go barging off without knowing what we're doing."

Scotty turned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"The girls have some kind of plan, and we don't know what it is. If we go barging around in the speedboat, we might throw a monkey wrench into the works."

"But we can't just stand here and do nothing," Scotty said desperately.

"We won't. Go get the plane warmed up and wait for me."

Rick hurried into the house and ran up the stairs to Barby's room. Working fast, he went through the dresser, then through the shelves in her closet. Not finding what he wanted, he paused to look around in case he might have overlooked a possibility.

He didn't know where girls kept things, and he suspected that sometimes the places weren't the same as boys might pick. But he could see no possible place that he hadn't searched.

That meant Barby had her Megabuck unit with her, unless she had left it somewhere else in the house.

He plugged in his earphone and called. "Barby!"

There was no reply. His lips set grimly. No use wasting time here. He ran from the house, hearing the sound of the Sky Wagon as Scotty warmed it up. Joe Blake was not in sight. Rick hurried into the lab and found him watching Professor Morrison who was checking some calculations on the lab's small computing machine.

"Joe, step outside with me for a moment, please."

Outside, Rick explained that the girls were missing, then asked, "Can you get the plane frequency on your receiver?"

"Sure. It's an all-wave job. What's the frequency you use?"

Rick told him, then explained, "We don't know what's going on, so we want to be prepared. If some of your Scout leaders can move down the coast to North Cove and keep an eye on the houseboat, Scotty and I will search from the air. If we see anything, we'll let you know on the plane's radio. You won't be able to talk back, but at least you can hear us, and you can let the Scouts know."

He wished his mind had worked faster. Then he could have taken Scotty's Megabuck unit and given it to Joe. But there was no time now, and this other arrangement probably would do as well.

"I'll pass the word to the gang on the mainland right away," Joe agreed.

Joe went back into the lab while Rick ran to Pirate's Beach. Scotty was waiting, the plane's engine turning over. Together, they launched the Sky Wagon, then climbed in, Scotty in the pilot's seat.

As Scotty took off, Rick tried Barby again on the radio. "Barby, this is Rick. Can you read me?"

There was no reply.

"Better fly as though we were heading for Whiteside," Rick suggested. He rubbed his palms on his handkerchief. They were damp with nervous perspiration. He was not as calm as he looked.

Scotty swung around on course and Rick scanned the water as they passed over the north side of Spindrift. There was no sign of the rowboat yet.

The plane traveled in a straight line right across North Cove. The houseboat was at anchor a few hundred yards offshore, and the pram was tied up to the rear rail. There was no sign of life.

The boys reached the Whiteside pier without seeing the girls or the boat. Scotty put the plane into a tight circle and looked at Rick helplessly. "Now what?"

"They can't have gone far," Rick mused. "Not in the rowboat."

"They had the aqualungs," Scotty pointed out. "They must have expected to use them."

"Right. But how? If they planned to get aboard the houseboat, they wouldn't be using the aqualungs. Or would they?"

"Search me."

"Wouldn't they just row up to the houseboat on some excuse or other? I wish I'd looked. Barby might have taken those clothes Dad wore home last night."

"We can't just float around and talk," Scotty said urgently. "Let's do something."

Rick felt the same way. "Okay. Throttle down and go slow. We'll scan the whole coastline from here to Spindrift."

Scotty did so, holding the little plane barely above stalling speed. Rick leaned out and traced the shore with anxious eyes.

The plane turned and twisted as Scotty followed the coastline as accurately as he could. They reached the upper tip of North Cove and swung into the cove itself.

Scotty tapped Rick on the shoulder and pointed. A man and a woman had come out of the houseboat and were watching the plane.

"Wonder where the other pair is?" Rick asked. There was nothing they could do about the people on the houseboat now. Let them wonder what the plane was doing. Rick turned his attention back to the shore below.

The plane traveled the length of the cove's shoreline and rounded the southern tip. They passed over a section where the woods came right down to the water. Birches leaned far over. Rick caught a glimpse of what might have been the rowboat, then the plane swung and he lost it.

"Circle," he said quickly. "I think I saw something!"

Scotty gunned the Sky Wagon and threw it into a tight turn. Rick watched carefully as the clump of birches came into view. There was a boat under them, all right. He wished for the binoculars, but they were probably at the attic lookout where Barby and Jan had spied on the houseboat.

He had no real doubt. He was sure the boat was the Spindrift rowboat.

"Circle over the island," he called to Scotty, then reached over and took the hand microphone from the instrument panel rack. He turned on the radio and waited a moment while it warmed.

"Joe, this is Rick," he said. "Rowboat under a clump of birches just south of North Cove. Have the boys go there and look it over. See if the girls are in the woods. We'll watch for sign of the girls on the water."

To Scotty, he directed, "Over the cove. Circle the whole area. We'll watch for their bubbles. Joe's men will check the woods."

The plane turned obediently. Presently they were moving in a wide circle with the houseboat as a center. A slight surface wind had arisen and the water in the cove was a bit choppy, but not enough to obscure bubble tracks made by Scuba divers below.

"See anything?" Rick asked.

"Not a trace. Can you see the water around the houseboat well enough?"

"Yes. No bubbles in the vicinity." Rick dried his palms again, then mopped his forehead. He was becoming thoroughly frightened. Where were they?

He checked his Megabuck radio to be sure it was on and called, "Barby. Where are you?"

The air was silent, except for the slight background hiss that was always present.

"Look right under the houseboat's gunwales," Scotty urged. "If they're directly under it, the bubbles would rise along the sides."

"Why would they go under the houseboat?" Rick asked.

Scotty shook his head. "Why did they come over here in the first place?"

Rick had no answer. "Let's go over to the shore. Joe's men ought to be at the rowboat by now. Maybe they found the girls."

Scotty banked around and headed over the clump of birches. In a small clearing behind the clump they saw two men in Scout uniforms. The men looked up, and one spread his hands wide in a gesture that said nothing of importance had been turned up.

"There's only one thing to do," Rick said decisively. "We've got to check on the..."

He stopped as though a hand had clutched his throat. Barby's voice, in his earphones!

Rick pulled the unit from his pocket and turned up the volume. He couldn't hear her well.

"It's Barby," he said swiftly. "Circle!"

Rick strained to hear. She was talking to someone. "... It won't do the slightest bit of good to keep us here, because my brother will know where we are."

The signal faded as she talked. Rick turned the little radio unit, trying to keep the volume constant.

"You'd better let us go," Barby was saying. "You'll get into a lot of trouble if you don't."

Rick groaned. Her threats would do about as much good as a bunny threatening a wolf pack. Where was she? On the houseboat?

Suddenly he realized ... he had the key in his hands!

Barby's voice was high-pitched and frightened now. "What are you doing? Why are you putting that plastic cap on Jan?"

Rick turned the radio unit as the plane circled. The sweat stood out on his face. Unerringly, the axis of the built-in antenna pointed to the houseboat.

There was no longer any doubt!

"Land!" he yelled. "Land next to the houseboat!"

Scotty slammed the throttle in instant response, and as the Sky Wagon dived toward the water he cast a quick look at Rick. "What did you hear?"

Rick was already slipping off his shoes, getting ready to jump. "On the houseboat!" he choked. "They're using the mind reader on the girls!"



CHAPTER XVIII

The One-Man Boarding Party

Scotty hit the water and bounced once, but he held the plane down and in a moment the water slowed it. He revved up again and taxied as rapidly as he dared to the houseboat, swung broadside to it, and throttled back.

Rick was waiting. He flung the door open and dove far enough to clear the pontoon. The cold water closed over him briefly, then with a powerful kick he flashed to the surface again. A few strokes brought him to the houseboat.

The two men were leaning on the rail. One, a hefty man of middle age with a striped shirt and glasses, said politely, "Do you want something?"

Rick stopped and tread water. "I want the two girls you have inside. Have them come out here, and we won't bother you any more."

The second man, the dark-haired one who had come to Spindrift, smiled. "You mean our wives? They're having a nap. Sorry."

"I mean my sister and her friend. Stop stalling, Mister."

Striped shirt shook his head. "Sorry, boy. We haven't seen your sister. Now climb back on your little airplane and get out of here."

Rick's reply was a stroke that brought him to the houseboat. He reached up for a handhold, when a boat hook suddenly touched his forehead.

"Don't try it," striped shirt said. "Stay off this barge or I'll bend this pole over your head. Now get out of here."

Rick back-pedaled helplessly. Now what? He knew there was no possibility of his climbing aboard while the men were on deck.

And what was happening inside? He swam forward, to the front of the boat, and the men followed. They could move faster than he; there was no possibility of outdistancing them.

If only he had a weapon! But wishing was useless. He had to do something! He called, "Barby! Can you hear me?"

There was no answer from inside. His pulse speeded. Were Barby and Jan all right, perhaps gagged, or had the mind reader already worked?

Rick swam away from the houseboat a few feet and floated, his mind racing. There had to be a way of getting aboard. There had to!

Where was Scotty? He listened, and heard the plane's engine on the other side of the houseboat. In a few seconds Scotty came into view. He was on the water close to shore, traveling at high speed. As Rick watched, Scotty swung the plane on a line with the houseboat and opened the throttle wide.

Rick stared. Was his pal out of his mind? If he crashed the houseboat, the girls would be hurt, too! Then he realized Scotty would never pull such a stunt, no matter how desperate he became.

The men on the houseboat were at the rail now, eyes on the racing plane. In that instant Rick divined Scotty's plan, he hoped, and turned to gauge his distance. The plane was on the upper step now, almost air-borne. Even as he watched, the pontoons pulled away. But Scotty held the plane on the water, roaring propeller pointed right at the men at the rail.

Rick put his head down and sprinted for the front of the houseboat. He had to time it perfectly!

To the horrified eyes of the men at the rail a collision was inevitable. They could only assume that the madman in the plane was going to smash right into them. And as Scotty had planned, they lost all interest in Rick, in the presence of immediate, personal danger.

The men threw themselves to the deck, clawing frantically for some kind of cover. At the last instant, Scotty pulled the plane up in a power climb. So near disaster had he come that the suction of the passing pontoons lifted a coiled rope into the air on top of the cabin. Even as he mounted the rail and stood on deck, Rick gave a prayer of thanks for his pal's perfect judgment and lightning reflexes.



He ran along the deck, jumped over the two prostrate men, swung around and launched himself into the cabin. He stopped, eyes wide with fright.

Barby was lashed to a chair just inside the door, a gag in her mouth. Jan was on the other side of the cabin, also lashed. But Jan had a plastic cap on her head, and wires ran from it to a machine on a nearby table. Two women were standing over the girl, and one had a pistol in her hand.

Rick started forward, then stopped helplessly. The pistol wasn't pointed at him. It was pointed at Jan's head!

He looked into Jan's pleading eyes and shifted his weight uncertainly. He didn't know what to do now.

Jan did. Her arms were lashed tight, but her legs were free. She lifted one of them in a kick that caught the pistol-holding woman behind the knees. The pistol hand lifted as the woman flailed for balance, and Rick sprang like a charging fullback. His widespread arms embraced both women and slammed them back into the cabin wall. Then he scrambled to his feet in search of the gun. It was under Jan's chair. He bent to pick it up when Barby gave a muffled cry from behind the gag. Rick whirled.

The two men were rushing him from the cabin entrance.

There wasn't much room in the cabin, but it gave Rick an advantage. He dove toward the men, who stopped their rush briefly. But Rick hadn't made the dive with the intention of meeting them head on. There was a table along the wall next to the corner where Barby was tied up. Rick went under it.

The men rushed for the table. Rick reached out and grabbed an ankle. Bracing his legs, he gave a mighty heave. Striped shirt went over backward in front of Barby, who stamped with both bare feet on his stomach. The breath went out of him with a whoosh.

Rick gathered his legs and shoved upward. The table heaved into the other man and threw him off balance long enough to give Rick a chance to get to his feet. Keeping the table between him and the dark man, Rick watched for an opening. Striped shirt was on his knees, shaking his head.

The dark man was tired of waiting. He launched himself across the table, arms outstretched. It was the best move he could have made, from Rick's point of view. The boy knew he could not compete with either man in strength. He had to depend on speed, and the infighting tricks he had learned from Scotty. He used one now. At the last moment he side-stepped and his hand flashed down. It was a judo chop, the hand held stiff, the blow delivered with the side opposite the thumb. It was effective. The man dropped to the floor, shaking his head. Rick used the savate, the blow delivered with the heel. It landed against the side of the man's neck. He went over sideways.

Striped shirt was on his feet now, but still starved for air. His mouth hung open as he gasped, but he was coming forward.

Rick met him. He dove into the man's stomach and felt his head smack into soft flesh. The breath went out of striped shirt again. Rick regained his feet and turned to Barby. She was making sounds through her gag, her eyes desperate.

The boy whirled. The women were back in the fight, one of them scrambling for the gun under Jan's chair. Jan kicked it far back, out of reach. Rick scooped up the table and slid it along the floor at them. The table caught them like a pair of tenpins and knocked them into the corner. He turned back to Barby and started to untie her, his fingers racing.

A blow landed on his shoulder. He turned in time to meet another one across the cheek that knocked him back against the wall. He rebounded, fighting. The dark man was crouched low, fists weaving. Rick danced lightly around him waiting. Let the man come to him.

The man led with a right. Rick rolled away from it, watching the left that was cocked for a Sunday punch. The man threw his punch. Rick caught it on the forearm and gasped with the pain of it. The guy had a wallop like a mule!

Rick feinted with the hurt arm, then drove a chop at the man's nose. It connected and brought a gasp of pain. Barby was screaming through the gag again, but he couldn't look now. He brought a roundhouse punch up under his opponent's guard and felt it smack solidly against ribs. Then an arm encircled his neck and a clenched fist crashed against the back of his head. He saw stars, and for a moment his guard dropped. Then both arms were pinioned.

Striped shirt had caught him from behind. Now the dark man stepped in, fist cocked for a knockout punch. Rick saw it coming and braced himself.

The punch never landed. A crisp voice said, "Don't do it!"

Encircling arms fell away. Rick turned, knees weak.

A man in Boy Scout uniform stood in the cabin door, and in his hand was a Police Positive.

"All right," the Scout said cheerfully. "Party's over."



CHAPTER XIX

Taped for Trouble

Another Scout leader moved into the cabin, followed by Scotty. Rick gave them a grin, then turned and picked up the gun behind Jan's chair. He stuck it in his pocket and untied the girl.

The plastic cap was still on her head. He lifted it off gently and put it on top of the machine.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, hand at her throat. "Yes," she managed. "I can't talk. The gag ..."

"Time for talk later," Rick said. He started for Barby, but Scotty was already untying her. The moment her hands were free, she pulled the gag from her mouth and announced, "Well! You took long enough getting here!"

Rick didn't know what to say to that. He didn't have a chance to say anything. His sister rushed over, put her arms around him, and squeezed.

"You were wonderful," she said. "Scotty, he held four of them at bay. I never knew you could fight like that, Rick Brant!"

Rick grinned. "I didn't do so much. You took one of them out of play by stamping on him. And Jan gave me an opening with as fine a kick as I've seen off a football field."

The two JANIG agents had produced handcuffs, and the men and women were manacled together in a continuous chain.

"Outside," one agent commanded. "Get into the pram."

"You've got nothing on us," the man in the striped shirt protested. "We were only protecting ourselves against this wild man who barged in here."

"Were you protecting yourselves against the two girls?" Scotty asked.

"We were holding them for the police," striped shirt stated. "They sneaked aboard, probably intending to steal anything they could find. You're going to get yourselves into a peck of trouble, my friends. There's a law in the state against carrying firearms! A fine reputation this will give the Boy Scouts!"

The agent with the pistol said mildly, "You talk too much. Get in the pram." To Rick he said, "We're taking them to Spindrift. We'll send the speedboat back for you."

The four young people stood at the rail and watched as the crowded pram with its outboard motor chugged off to the island.

Barby pulled off her bathing cap, and Rick saw that she wore the Megabuck unit underneath. He pointed to it. "I tried to call you. Why didn't you answer?"

Barby replied with an embarrassed blush that started at the shoulders and swept up until her face was bright red. "I forgot to turn it on," she admitted. "Jan reminded me while they were tying her up. They hadn't got to me, yet. One of the women was holding the pistol and pointing it at me. Jan sort of looked up and said, 'We need an outside power to help us now. But we must be sure the power is turned on.' Then I remembered. I pretended my head hurt, and pushed the switch."

Rick looked at Jan. "That was clever. I'd been trying to reach Barby, with no success. Then, suddenly, I heard her talking."

"We knew you were close, because we could hear the plane." Jan shuddered. "The men heard it, too, because they ran out right after they tied us up and put that thing on my head. The women guarded us, and one of them had just started the machine running when the plane came right at us. We saw it, through the open door, and we thought you were going to crash!"

Rick grinned at Scotty. "That was our fast-acting pal. If he hadn't done that, I'd never have had a chance to get aboard."

"Good thing you figured out what I was doing," Scotty admitted. "When I saw you moving fast toward the boat, I knew it was okay, and that I didn't have to crash."

Rick stared. "Do you mean you'd have actually crashed?"

"Not head on, because that would have hurt the girls. I was planning to swing at the last minute and try to knock the men off with the wing."

Rick could only mutter, "My sainted aunt!"

Scotty turned on the girls. "And here's the pair that made it necessary. What in the name of a painted parsnip were you two trying to do?"

Barby lifted her chin defiantly. "We had a good plan. Can we help it if it didn't work?"

"Can't answer that until we know the plan," Scotty said reasonably. "Suppose you tell us."

"Well, we needed evidence that the houseboaters were in the plot against our fathers, didn't we? I knew we could get it, if we could plant a radio. So we made a plan."

"Lot of good a turned-off radio would have done," Rick muttered.

Barby glared. "We decided that we'd go swimming with the lungs. Then we'd come up right next to the houseboat, and we'd be so surprised! Of course the people would come out to see us, then we'd say I had a cramp, and could we please come up and rest."

Rick listened, and he had to admit it wasn't a bad plan at all—so far.

"Of course they would let us rest. Then I'd wait for a chance to put the radio behind a cushion, or in the crack of an armchair, or somewhere like that. I didn't know exactly what I could do, but I knew if we could get aboard there would be some way of leaving the radio behind."

The pram had vanished around the turn of the cove. The speedboat would come into sight any moment now.

"All right," Rick admitted. "Let's say it was a good plan. What happened?"

Jan took up the tale. "We didn't want to try to swim all the way from Spindrift, so we took the rowboat and did exactly what Cap'n Mike did yesterday. We rowed along the shore with the aqualungs and got into the water right where we could see the houseboat. We had to. Otherwise, we would have gotten lost underwater."

"But you had the wrist compasses, didn't you?" Scotty asked. The boys had stressed that compasses were essential because low visibility in the waters off Spindrift made it very easy to lose one's sense of direction.

"We had the compasses," Barby said. "How do you think we swam right to the houseboat?"

"Then why didn't you get into the water out of sight of the houseboat?" Rick asked, and suddenly he knew. That would have meant plotting a compass course around a turn. So many feet in one direction, then change to another compass heading. He had explained it to them, but they just hadn't learned. It was not easy, he had to admit, and it took practice even on land. "Never mind," he said. "I know the answer. Go ahead. Tell us the rest."

Barby studied his face. "I guess you do know," she assented. "Well, they told us later, on the houseboat. They saw us get into the water, then they watched our bubbles come right toward them. So when we got here, they weren't fooled."

"We went through with it, as we planned," Jan said, "and we thought we were getting away with it. They were very nice. Of course we could come up and rest. They were glad to have us stop by. But when we got aboard, one of the women had a gun, and she made us go into the cabin and sit down. Then they started asking us questions."

"What kind of questions?" Rick inquired.

"About why we had come. We stuck to the story, until they told us they'd seen us. Even then we didn't admit anything. Then Barby started to threaten them."

Scotty chuckled. "I'd like to have heard that."

Rick watched the tip of the cove. The speedboat from Spindrift should be coming shortly. "How about the plane?" he asked suddenly. "What did you do with it?"

Scotty motioned to the other side of the houseboat. "It's anchored. I landed next to the JANIG team and got into the rowboat with them." The Sky Wagon carried a small anchor and a few yards of anchor line in one of the pontoons.

"Okay. Carry on, Barby. How did you threaten them?"

"I was very logical," Barby stated. "Wasn't I, Jan?"

Jan nodded agreement. "You definitely were."

"I started by telling them that they couldn't possibly do a thing to us, and they might as well let us go right away."

"Bet that impressed them," Rick murmured.

"Are you telling this, or am I?"

"You are," Rick said contritely. "Go ahead."

"Well, I said my brother knew where we were, and they'd better be careful. It didn't work. Then I pointed out that they didn't even dare to kill us, because our bodies could be traced back to the houseboat. Everyone knew we'd just gone for a swim, and everyone knew we could take care of ourselves."

Rick thought privately that any time Spindrift was in danger from then on, he'd make sure his self-reliant sister had a bodyguard at all times.

"I said other things, too, but finally they slapped me and told me to shut up."

"Who did?" Scotty demanded.

"One of the women. It doesn't matter, Scotty. It didn't hurt. Anyway, they said we could stop worrying about what was going to happen to them. Then one of the men asked if we knew what had happened to the three scientists. We said yes. And he said ... he said ..." Barby suddenly turned white.

Jan finished for her. "He said they were going to erase our minds, too. Then they were going to put us back in the water." The words were no sooner out than Jan had a delayed reaction, too.

Rick rushed the two of them into the cabin and made them sit down with heads bent low. Scotty found water and gave them each a drink.

"You've acted like a couple of champs," Rick told them. "But for the love of mike, don't faint now!"

Barby lifted her chin. "I have no intention of fainting," she said defiantly. "It's just ... well, it's ..."

"I know," Rick assured her. "Take it easy, Sis."

He looked up. The sound of a racing speedboat was echoing inside the cabin. Good. They'd be home in a few minutes and his mother could take over. He gave the girls a comradely grin. What a pair!

The machine on the table attracted his eye. He walked over and studied it. The recording drum had wavy lines on it, probably the beginning of Jan's brain pattern. It made no sense to him, but it would to Parnell Winston.

"They had you taped," he told the girl gently. "But you saved your own bacon by telling Barby to turn on the radio. If you hadn't ..."

A shudder ran through Jan's slim body. "I was taped for trouble. I'm glad you came through the door when you did!"

Rick's finger traced a line on the recording drum.

"I'm kind of glad myself," he admitted.



CHAPTER XX

JANIG Closes In

Steve Ames walked around the objects on the laboratory table. "Nothing deadly looking about these gadgets," he said. "Which goes to show how misleading appearances can be."

The objects included the barber's massage machine, an ancient composition-board suitcase, the gadget from the houseboat, and a TV set with an indoor antenna of the kind known as "rabbit ears."

Parnell Winston admitted, "There is plenty we don't know about them, especially the inside of that TV set. But we'll learn."

Steve smiled at the assembly of faces. In addition to the project team and the boys, Mrs. Brant, Mrs. Morrison, and the two girls were in the group. So was Joe Blake.

Rick regretted that Jerry, Duke, and Cap'n Mike could not be invited. But the matter was still not for discussion with people on the outside. If a story ever could be made public, the Morning Record would be the first to have it, but in all probability the facts would remain buried for some time.

In a large room in the lab basement the four houseboaters and the barber waited under heavy guard for the arrival of a Coast Guard cutter. The barber was there courtesy of Captain Douglas, who had picked him up and delivered him to Spindrift after a call from Joe Blake.

Steve rapped for attention. "We're about to tie up some loose ends, everyone. Let's get seated, because the cutter will be here any moment."

The room was sometimes used for lectures when Hartson Brant got his entire staff together, and there were plenty of chairs. In a moment the audience was seated comfortably and listening to Steve.

"You were all involved," the agent began, "so I want you all to know what has been going on. Some details are not known to us, yet. But we're continuing the investigation. However, the part that involves you is finished, and you'll probably never hear about the rest of it."

Rick knew that was true. Who the houseboaters and the barber really were, who paid them, how they had been tipped off to the project in the first place, and similar details would remain locked in top-secret files somewhere in Washington.

"The key to the whole affair was uncovered in Washington yesterday. Most of you know about the physical arrangements on the fourth floor. In setting up the security system we checked all wiring, traced all phone lines, and in general made sure the place was not 'bugged,' which is the term we use for wire taps, hidden microphones, and so on."

Steve paused, and Rick thought his friend looked a little embarrassed. "In spite of our care, it developed that we did have a hidden microphone picking up all conversation and relaying it to the enemy group. I can only say in our own defense that it was the kind of 'bug' we couldn't have found without tearing the building apart."

"It's nearly impossible to take all modern electronic developments into account," Julius Weiss said. "We all know how thorough you are, Steve. Go on."

"Thank you, Julius. Directly above us, on the fifth floor, was the Peerless Brokerage Company. It was a legitimate firm, doing a good business. We had no reason to suspect it, even though we checked out all firms both above and below us. Well, in checking on the houseboaters, we discovered that the firm had recently been taken over by a dummy corporation, and most of it was actually owned by the man Rick called 'striped shirt.' He bought the stock right after the project moved in on the fourth floor."

"There was no change in the firm?" Dr. Morrison asked. "Nothing suspicious?"

"Nothing. The firm continued to operate as always. There was one personnel change. A lawyer, representing the new principal stockholder, took over one of the offices."

Rick suspected that said lawyer was now in custody.

"As soon as we discovered the connection, we made a check. Under the floor in the lawyer's office we found a 'bug.' A hole had been drilled into the floor structure until only a thin shell of plaster remained. The plaster was, of course, our ceiling. So actually the microphone was within a fraction of an inch of our room, but there was no way we could detect it. That's how every move we made was anticipated, and why the enemy moved to Whiteside on the same day that the project moved to Spindrift."

That explained a lot, Rick thought. "Did the barber tape the two scientists?" he asked.

"We think so. He's the boss of the enemy team, Rick. We've found that during the period when he was in Washington, his massage machine was wired through to a room in the basement. The wiring went through the power cord into the electric outlet, and the impulses were actually transmitted over the power system and taken out of a plug in the basement. We found the machine where he had stored it."

Rick knew that could be done quite simply. The frequencies of the electric current and the brain patterns were so different that they would not interfere with each other.

"He didn't plan to use his machine in Whiteside," Steve went on, "because he left the mind-reading part of the machine in Washington."

"Then why did he bring it?" Barby asked.

"We're not sure. The likeliest possibility is that he wanted to continue using it as a massage machine, because he made a little money with it. I never knew an espionage agent who didn't need money."

Steve looked at Rick. "I'm a little surprised at one thing. Why didn't the Spindrift twins suspect foul play when Hartson Brant ran over something in the speedboat?"

It was Rick's turn to be embarrassed. "I guess we were so upset we didn't think straight. Why?"

"The mainland team found a log. It had a yoke on it. Apparently the houseboaters had taken a lesson from the incident on the pier and were waiting for Spindrift traffic on the water. We think they waited until they heard the sound of the Spindrift speedboat, then took the pram and cut across the course hauling a log on a long rope."

Scotty spoke up. "That's what puzzles me, Steve. Why the switch from long-distance electronics to violence?"

"When we moved the project to Spindrift, we also removed the chance of taping project members in some natural setting like the barbershop. They had hoped to knock out the team without anyone suspecting it was enemy interference. That worked, at first. But moving the project upset their plans. They rigged the train deal that caught Marks. But even though it worked, it showed we were dealing with an enemy."

"So they had to catch the scientists in order to tape them," Scotty commented.

"Right. Of course they tried to do it in a way that looked natural in the case of Marks and Dr. Brant. Probably they hoped the attack on Duke, whom they mistook for Morrison, would be taken as a holdup. They undoubtedly planned to allow time between the accident, or attack, and following through with the mind-reading machine, hoping that the two wouldn't be connected."

The pattern was clear, Rick thought. Like many such schemes, the moment a suspicion of foul play developed, the plan began to boomerang.

"I think the order of events is clear enough," Steve concluded. "Any questions?"

Barby had one. "I don't understand about Dr. Marks. Did they turn on the mind reader from the train?"

"Probably. The man on the train apparently had a two-section gadget in a suitcase. One part took the EEG and the other sent out the signal that did the damage. He waited until the train was pulling out of the station before turning on the record section. Then all he had to do was get off at New York. We haven't found him, or his machine. But we will. Any other questions?"

"Why did the barber move to Whiteside, if he didn't intend to tape anyone?" Weiss asked.

"The barbershop in any small town is a good central location for keeping track of goings-on in town. I think that's all he had in mind—besides the fact that barbering was his trade. If Vince Lardner hadn't needed an assistant, he probably would have moved into one of the summer colonies, or gotten some other kind of job. We can't be sure."

Rick asked, "Are there any machines in existence besides these two and the missing one from the train?"

"We don't know. But it doesn't matter. The enemy now knows we're onto the system and can't expect to get away with it again. Besides, Dr. Winston says a countermeasure is easily arranged, to be used when we suspect the mind readers might make another try."

"Who are these people?" Jan demanded.

Steve grinned. "Unfriendly agents. Seriously, Jan, we aren't sure about their employers. It will take some backbreaking investigation to get the whole story, because the files show nothing on any of them. That means they were deep-cover agents, kept hidden until there was something important enough to bring them out. We may never get the whole story."

"Won't they talk?" Scotty asked.

"They haven't yet. They may. But, anyway, we'd have to check on their stories. Any other questions? Okay, I'm finished. Dr. Winston will take over at this point."

The cyberneticist came to the front of the room. "We have something here," he stated, "but we don't yet know what it is. And, curiously enough, from the crude nature of the machines, I doubt that the enemy knows, either. If we have to speculate—and I guess we do—we might guess that sometime, in an enemy EEG laboratory, some experiment resulted in a subject having his mind erased. It was probably an accident that the enemy exploited without knowing how it worked."

"Can't we even guess how it works?" Weiss asked.

"Approximately, without knowing the physiology of it. The EEG recording is simply fed into a gadget that modulates a carrier wave. The carrier is an average frequency for brain patterns. In effect, the thing simply transmits the man's own pattern back to him. Why that should produce trauma of the kind we have seen is a mystery." The scientist gestured to the TV receiver. "The transmitter is incorporated into the TV chassis, and the 'rabbit ears' act as an antenna when adjusted properly. The recorder is a simple EEG mechanism."

Winston smiled. "You may be sure we're not through with this apparatus. I'm leaving the project immediately to set up a new team with Chavez, for the investigation of this phenomena. It may be another major key to the physiology of the brain."

"Do you mean we know nothing more than you've told us?" Rick asked.

"Nothing more, Rick. Oh, are you wondering about the barber's machine? Actually, the massage gadgets acted as electrodes, and the massage oil did very well in making good contact. It was a simple setup."

There were no questions for Parnell Winston. Steve took over. "In a short time we'll take the prisoners off your hands. Joe Blake and two men will remain as guards, but I think we have nothing more to worry about beyond routine security."

"I just remembered," Rick interrupted. "How about the elevator operator?"

"We picked him up, but he didn't know a thing. The barber paid him in free haircuts to keep track of people coming and going from the fourth floor. That's all. He didn't know why."

Joe Blake came in the door. "Motor whaleboat coming, Steve. Shall we take the prisoners to the landing?"

"Yes, Joe. Please."

Barby looked at Steve speculatively. "How about the houseboat?"

"Well, how about it? Haven't you seen enough of it?"

Barby smiled. "It would be very nice, if it were only another color. What will happen to it?"

"A coastguardman will be after it tomorrow. It will be impounded for a while. After that it may be sold for public auction, or it may revert to the owner's estate. It depends on the court."

Barby looked a little disappointed. "Oh, well, we don't really need a houseboat, anyway."

The group broke up as Joe and his partner walked the prisoners across the island to the landing. In a short time the motor whaleboat was speeding to the horizon where a cutter waited.

Rick took a last look. That just about closed the case. The remaining details probably would never be known to the Spindrift group.

"Can't anything be done for Dr. Marks and the other scientists?" he asked Parnell Winston.

Winston shook his head. "No, Rick. We're afraid to tamper, for fear of making things worse. But I neglected to tell you one very important item. The first scientist stricken is becoming rational again, or at least we hope so. Yesterday he asked for food. A short time later he picked up a pencil and paper and began to work out an equation, one connected with the project. Apparently the equation was the last thing he had been working on when the mind reader struck. So we hope and believe that nature is healing the damage. There is no evidence of tissue destruction, so perhaps complete recovery is possible. It's a question of waiting and watching."

Within two weeks Rick had an opportunity to see for himself, because the two scientists from Washington joined the Spindrift group. They were fully recovered, with only vague memories of the period when their minds were not functioning. And Dr. Marks was reported well on the way to normalcy.

The project was almost at an end, with only a few final checks needed on the critical equations. The Morrisons had already set a day for their departure—to Barby's great unhappiness.

As Barby said at dinner one night, "I didn't realize how lonely it gets sometimes without another girl on the island. Until Jan came, that is. Now she's going, and I wish she weren't."

"I'd love to stay," Jan said. "Really I would."

Hartson Brant arrived in time to hear the last exchange. He had left the table briefly to take a phone call. "I'm afraid it's going to be pretty quiet on Spindrift," he agreed. "It looks as though we'll be losing Rick and Scotty for a while!"

Barby wailed, "Not again! Why can't they stay home for a while?"

Rick and Scotty had looked up with quick interest at the scientist's words.

"We've been home for weeks," Rick replied. His eyes were on the slip of paper in his father's hand. "Dad, what is it? Where are we going?"

"Read it aloud," Hartson Brant suggested. He handed Rick the slip.

Rick scanned it quickly. It was a telegram that his father had taken over the phone. Rick's pulse quickened. Dr. Gordon, who had been at work on a secret rocket project in the far west, had wired:

ARRIVING TOMORROW. NEED RICK AND SCOTTY FOR SPECIAL WORK. URGE THEY BE READY TO DEPART IN THREE DAYS EQUIPPED FOR EXTENDED STAY AT DESERT BASE.

Rick's eyes met Scotty's as he finished reading. "Desert base," he repeated.

Scotty grinned his delight. "John Gordon's rocket base is in the desert. He must want us there."

"But why?" Barby demanded. "You're not rocket experts. Why, even when we had the moon rocket here, you didn't work on the rocket itself."

That was perfectly true. Rick shrugged. "You know as much as we do, Sis."

Hartson Brant stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "I have a hunch," he said. "From the tone of the wire, I suspect John is in some kind of difficulty. Surely he doesn't want you as technicians, but it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that he needs a little detective work done."

It made sense to Rick. But what kind of detective work could he and Scotty do at a highly guarded and secret government base? He fought down the impulse to run up to his room and start packing. Gordon had said in three days. There was plenty of time. Except that Rick knew he'd be dizzy with wondering until John Gordon gave them more information.

The Morrisons rose to the occasion beautifully. "We wouldn't want Barby to be without any companions of her own age here," Mrs. Morrison said quickly. "If it's all right, I'm sure we can let Jan remain until the boys return."

The girls beamed without saying a word, then they broke into excited chatter. Rick and Scotty retired to the front porch and grinned at each other.

"If Dad is right, this is going to be plenty of fun," Scotty said happily. "I've always wanted to get close to the big rockets."

"We'll find out," Rick said. "And if John Gordon has a mystery, we're the pair who can solve it for him."

Later, Rick's words returned to him under the most unusual and terrifying circumstances of his entire life. The story of the project that led to Rick's greatest adventure will be told in the next Rick Brant Science-Adventure mystery.

* * * * *

The RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE Stories

BY JOHN BLAINE

THE ROCKET'S SHADOW

THE LOST CITY

SEA GOLD

100 FATHOMS UNDER

THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY

THE PHANTOM SHARK

SMUGGLERS' REEF

THE CAVES OF FEAR

STAIRWAY TO DANGER

THE GOLDEN SKULL

THE WAILING OCTOPUS

THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER

* * * * *

THE END