"The dictionary says so," Scotty replied. "One definition of adventure is 'a remarkable experience.'" Hartson Brant, Rick's scientist father, grinned companionably at his son. "I agree with Scotty. Not only is Rick's driving a remarkable experience, but it fits the rest of the definition: 'The encountering of risks; hazardous enterprise.'" Jerry Webster rose to Rick's defense. "Oh, I don't know. Rick always gets there." "Sure he does," Scotty agreed. "Of course his passengers always have nervous breakdowns, but he gets there." Rick just grinned. He felt wonderful tonight. When you came right down to it, there was nothing that matched being at home with the family in the big house on Spindrift Island. The famous island off the New Jersey coast was home for the scientific foundation that his father headed, and for the scientist members. It was home for Scotty, too, and had been since the day he had rescued Rick from danger, as told in _The Rocket's Shadow_. As junior members of the foundation, Rick and Scotty had been included in a number of experiments and expeditions. Rick wouldn't have missed a one of them, and if opportunity offered he would go again with just as much eagerness. But it was nice to return to familiar surroundings between trips. More than once, during lonely nights in far places, his thoughts had turned to evenings just like this one with the family and perhaps a close friend like Jerry gathered on the porch after dinner. Rick, Scotty, and Barbara Brant had only recently returned from the South Pacific where they had vacationed aboard the trawler _Tarpon_ and had solved the mystery of _The Phantom Shark_. Barby had gone off to summer boarding school in Connecticut a few days later. Chahda, the Hindu boy who had been with the Brants since the Tibetan radar relay expedition described in _The Lost City_, had said good-bye to the group at New Caledonia and had returned to India. The scientists, Zircon, Weiss, and Gordon, were away doing research. Suddenly Rick chuckled. "Speaking of adventure, I'll bet the biggest adventure Barby had on our whole trip to the Pacific was eating _rosette saute_ at the governor's in Noumea." "What's that?" Jerry asked. "Bat," Scotty replied. "A very large kind of fruit bat. Barby thought it was wonderful until she found out what it was." "I should think so!" Mrs. Brant exclaimed. "It tasted good," Rick said. "Something like chicken livers." He grinned. "Anyway, I sympathized with Barby. I felt kind of funny myself when I found out what it was." Hartson Brant, an older edition of his athletic son, looked at the boy reflectively. He knocked ashes from his pipe. "Seems to me you've been pretty quiet since you got back, Rick. Lost your taste for excitement? Or are you working on something?"