at all of his state of nudity. Farmer shivered.

It was Ray who brought the conversation back to earth--or sea--again. He
asked Garf, directly, exactly where he did come from.

Garf looked hesitant, then waved the two to the rail with him. "See
those?" he asked. They looked, and saw what seemed to be a flight of
steps, carved from stone, old, and worn, starting abruptly just below
the water level and leading downward. There was nothing on either side
of the steps, or underneath them as far as could be seen, but ordinary
ocean. "I came up those," Garf said.

Farmer stared, and Ray stared. The stairway shouldn't be there--it
certainly hadn't been there before. Garf's explanations, it seemed, only
compounded the confusion caused by his presence.

Farmer, muddled, looked again at the nonapus, which had apparently gone
to sleep. Even so, it looked deadly.

Something bit him on the arm. He discovered Ray's fingers, in the diving
glove, digging into his flesh in an amazingly powerful grip. Farmer
hunched his shoulders, trying to break loose, and then he saw what Ray
was staring at.

Garf had left them, and was strolling around the launch as if he had
just bought it--looking down his nose at it; at the same time, acting as
if he could afford not to give a damn how badly he'd been stung. But the
startling thing was that he had picked up the boathook and was twirling
it unconcernedly. He had not only picked it up, however--he had also
tied it in a knot.

It should have splintered in his hands, assuming he was strong enough to
bend it at all. It hadn't; it was in perfect shape, except for the knot.
Or so it seemed, at least, for even as Ray started forward with
outstretched hand, obviously hoping to examine the thing, Garf gave it a
final twirl and scaled it carelessly overboard.

John Andrew began to feel quick-frozen again. Being alone at sea in a
rickety craft with a possible madman had been bad enough. To have a
weird creature with superhuman powers, and an impossible pet monster,
added to the crew was a little too much.

* * * * *

Garf turned his attention to the television set, which was still
presenting its hysterical vaudeville. "Great-uncle's gills!" he
exclaimed, and lapsed into a fascinated silence. He studied the
proceedings carefully, holding the arms-crossed pose again. Finally he
turned to Ray.

"Weren't you saying something about civilization a while ago, finless?"
he