hours ago, you say?"

"Might be a little less than two hours. Well, I hope you get her. I
didn't much like the looks of the fellers aboard her."

"Where do you think they'd take her?" called Joe as the boat swung her
stern around.

"I dunno. They might switch around into the Essex River, or they might
take her in Ipswich way, or they might head straight for Newburyport. If
they wanted to hide her I cal'ate they might run in behind Plum Island
somewheres."

"Sounds pretty hopeless," said Steve as the _Adventurer_ took up her way
again. "Look at this chart and see all the places she _might_ be, will
you? It's a regular what-do-you-call-it--labyrinth!"

"It certainly is," agreed Joe. "And there's a lot of shallows about
here, too. Where's this Plum Island he spoke of?"

Steve pointed it out, a seven-mile stretch of sand behind which emptied
four or five small rivers. "Shall we try it?" he asked.

"Might as well be thorough," Joe replied. "What do you say, Harry?"

"I say yes. Seems to me they'd be mighty likely to slide into some such
place if only to paint a new name on."

"We'll have a look then," agreed Steve. The _Adventurer_ dipped her way
across Squam Bar and Steve swung the wheel. "Southeast, one-fourth
south," he muttered, looking from the chart to compass. "Watch for a
black spar buoy off the lighthouse. If they took the _Follow Me_ into
Essex Bay, though, we're running right away from her."

To port, the sand dunes shone dazzlingly in the sunlight and a long
stretch of snow-white beach kept pace with them as they made for the
entrance to Plum Island Sound. Several boats, sailing and power craft,
had been sighted, but nothing that looked in the least like the _Follow
Me_. The sun climbed into a hazy blue sky and the day grew hot in spite
of the light westerly breeze. Steve picked up his buoys, a black and
then two red, and swung the cruiser in toward the mouth of the Ipswich
River. The chart showed feet instead of fathoms in places and Steve
slowed down cautiously until they were in the channel. They left Ipswich
Light on the port beam and kept on past the river mouth and into the
sound.

"What happens," asked Harry Corwin, looking at the chart over Steve's
shoulder, "when there aren't any soundings shown?"

"Just what I was wondering myself," replied the navigator. "It doesn't
tell you anything after you pass that last red spar buoy. Still, with
those two rivers coming in beyond up there, there must