“No. It’s not that radioactive,” Eddie said. “Those two men handled it all right. It’s some special kind of a tube. I’m going to take it to my dad.” “Why?” “Why!” Eddie repeated impatiently. “Because it must have something to do with that stolen radioisotope, that’s why.” “Well, you don’t need to get sore at me,” Teena scolded. “I’m not, Teena,” Eddie said, calming down. “But I’m not going to take the chance of leaving the thing out here and maybe not being able to find it again.” “You sure it won’t hurt you?” Teena asked again. “I’m real sure,” Eddie said. “I’ve seen that Geiger counter act up a lot worse over a small sample of uranium ore. Don’t worry. If it was really hot with radiation, those two men wouldn’t have been handling it either. Dad said that whoever stole the isotope would be an expert on knowing how to handle it safely. I’ll be right back.” [Illustration: _The cylinder was simple to locate._] Eddie slipped over the side and into the water. He took a breath, nosed over, and kicked downward. It was a shallow dive compared to some he had made while skin diving for lobster. He stroked easily down to the sand bar. The bright metal cylinder was simple to locate even in the murky water. He grabbed it with his left hand and swam back to the surface. Teena took it from him and laid it in the bottom of the boat. Then she helped him climb in over the stern. “It doesn’t look like anything very special, does it?” she said. “That’s why I thought it was for holding a jointed trout rod,” Eddie said, “but watch this.” He switched on the Geiger counter and held the probe near the metal tube. The earphones began to sputter with continuous clicks. The indicator on the dial jumped far forward. “It’s a cinch there’s some radioactive stuff inside,” Eddie assured. “Let’s go. I’ve got to take this to my father.” As they drew within a quarter of a mile of Anderson’s Landing, Teena said, “Eddie, what if those two men should be around the boat dock and see us with this tube?” Eddie looked over his shoulder. He saw only one person on the landing. That would probably be Mr. Anderson. “I’m sure they’ve already turned in their boat and gone on home,” Eddie said, “but just to be safe, we’ll do this.” He picked up his blue jeans which he had left wadded up in the bottom of the boat, as he hadn’t wanted to put them back on over his wet trunks. He pushed the metal tube into one of the empty legs. Then he wrapped the excess material around it. “There,” he said, satisfied, “no one can see it now.” Mr. Anderson came out to meet them as they eased the rowboat gently up to the dock. “Well, how did it go?” he asked. “Find any atoms?” Eddie smiled. “Everything is made of atoms, Mr. Anderson,” he explained. “We were looking for uranium. That’s a special kind.” “I guess it’s a special, all right,” the boat-owner agreed, “the way it can blow things to smithereens.”