h its pouches,
sheaths, and tool case. And the weapon which the stranger had used to
such good effect during their escape from the arena. Dalgard took up
the gun. It was light in weight, and it fitted into his hand almost as
if it had been molded to his measure.

He aimed at the hovering box, pressed the button as he had seen the
other do, with no results. The stun ray, which had acted upon living
creatures, could not govern the delicate mechanism in the hound's
interior. Dalgard laid it aside. There were no more of the bombs, nor
would they have been effective against such a target. As far as he
could see, there was nothing among Raf's possessions which could help
them now.

One of the black shadows in the water moved to shore. The box swooped,
death striking at the merman who ran to shelter. A second followed
him, eluding the attack of the hound by a matter of inches. Now the
box buzzed angrily.

Dalgard, catching their thoughts, hurried to aid them. They undid the
knots of the hammock about the helpless stranger, leaving about him
only the necessary bandage ties. Now they had a crude net, woven, as
Dalgard knew, of undersea fibers strong enough to hold captive
plunging monsters a dozen times the size of the box. If they could net
it!

He had seen the exploits of the mermen hunters, knew their skill with
net and spear. But to scoop a flying thing out of the air was a new
problem.

"Not so!" the thought cut across his. "They have used such as this to
hunt us before, long ago. We had believed they were all lost. It must
be caught and broken, or it will hunt and kill and hunt again, for it
does not tire nor can it be beaten from any trail it is set upon.
Now--"

"I will do that, for you have the knowledge--" the scout cut in
quickly. After his other meeting with the hound he had no liking for
the task he had taken on, but there must be bait to draw the box
within striking distance.

"Stand upright and move toward those rocks." The mermen changed
position, the net, now with stones in certain loops to weigh it,
caught in their three-fingered hands.

Dalgard moved, fighting against hunching his shoulders, against
hurrying the pace. He saw the shadow of the flitting death, and flung
himself down beside the boulder the mermen had pointed out. Then he
rolled over, half surprised not to be struck.

The hound was still in the air but over it now was draped the net, the
rocks in its fringes weighing it down in spite