rinned at each other, and pulled their masks back
on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of
the structure where brush from last year's cover remained.

Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been
wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the
truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree!

Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of
the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a
light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on
earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention
had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall
piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to
indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the
pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The
middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it.

Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one
that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment,
then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom.

Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky
nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It
was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it
and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright
surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling
as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position.
The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs
back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the
right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working
cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers
enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently.

The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was
almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed
to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as
little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its
purpose.

Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a
rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon.
Rick couldn't see it clearly, but th