idly befallen him. It was
difficult to credit eyes that showed him creatures whose bodies were
mainly seal-like, and yet whose weapons and co-ordinated movements spoke
for human intelligence. But they were certainly real. At his feet he
could feel the pressure of a guard's flippers against him.

He was towed in this fashion for some distance when the pressure of the
flippers suddenly tightened and he was pulled into a deep-angled swoop
toward the sea-bottom below. Previously he had seen his captors' amazing
speed, but now he felt it. Down and down he went, and at last, when it
seemed he must crash into the sea floor, his momentum was quickly
checked, and he found himself standing in the mud, from which position,
lacking support from his guard, he drifted to a horizontal one, face up.
And there, lying helpless on the bottom, he saw the reason for the
sudden dive. Far to the right, piercing faintly through the murk, were
two faint interweaving beams of white that preceded a slowly moving dark
bulk.

The _Narwhal_! Wild hopes of rescue coursed through him.

Dimly, as he watched the beams, he was aware of the rest of the
creatures dropping down, guiding between them the whale's carcass. Then
a firm pressure was applied to his side, and he was rolled over, face
down in the mud. Unable any longer to see his ship, his momentary vision
of rescue vanished.

"Hopeless, I guess," he muttered despairingly. The darkness on the
sea-floor was too thick, the wavering shadows too deceptive. And his
hand-flash and knife were gone--probably knocked from his grasp during
the struggle, he thought.

He realized that the seal-like animals were lying low until the
submarine passed, its size having awed them. The color of the bodies
blended perfectly with the gloom, as did that of his own sea-suit. His
bonds prevented him from making even the slightest movement to attract
attention.

Torturing thoughts raced through the torpooner's brain. He saw, in his
mind's eye, straight above, a hazy bulk, with shimmering columns of
white angling from its nose. His imagination pictured for him the warm,
well-lit interior, and the bunks--the coffee steaming on the fire, the
men at their posts and Streight's anxious, beefy face. He saw it all as
plainly as if he were inside, cracking jokes with one of the engineers.

* * * * *

The minutes passed. The _Narwhal_ must now be gone. Ken's cheek muscles
stood out as he pressed h