ure of Merlin and
sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the
neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By
the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the
house to wait.

Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I
have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over.
Everything going all right?"

Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It
takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane.
Allow enough time."

"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?"

"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have
time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make
yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees.
Get in some fishing and swimming."

Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to
get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty.

"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some
fishing."

Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a
mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick
Brantish skull."

"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish."

Scotty just grinned.

CHAPTER X

Ken Holt Comes Through

Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely
evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the
sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat
appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm
water.

Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in
front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched
the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both
boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly
overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced
tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had
provided the necessities.

Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic
of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution,
or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a
long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was
just getting interesting.

"What are the flyi