Ray yelped. He started after her, but his progress in the diving suit was waddling and slow. She reached the rail first and went over. Ray was not too far behind, and he slammed his helmet down angrily as he reached the rail. Farmer, galvanized belatedly, gave chase as well. Dor was picking her way slowly down the stone steps, the machine cradled under her arm. Ray climbed up on the rail, poised there a second, then attempted a swan dive. John Andrew yelled at him as he arced forward, but it was too late. The old man dropped like a stone, flapping his arms, bounced slightly on the top step, then slid forward down several more steps on his faceplate. Dor hesitated, her head just above water. She looked at the limp, diving-suited body beside her, then back at the launch and Farmer. Again, she came to a decision quickly. Bending, leaving a trail of bubbles as her head went under, she set the Judge's invention down on a lower step and picked up the Judge instead. Cradling him in her arms, she started back up again, calling to Farmer to be ready to take her burden aboard. They got him on the boat with little difficulty, and John Andrew laid him on the deck as Dor sprang lithely over the rail again, showing interest in the little fellow's condition. The diving helmet came off easily, not having been properly fastened down at all. Farmer bent anxiously over the Judge, looking for signs of life. The diving suit had shipped some water, and the Judge had gotten a nasty crack on the head--but he was a tough bozo. There was no blood, his breathing seemed almost normal, and he already showed signs of returning consciousness. John Andrew turned to Dor. "Well, I should thank you for bringing him back, I guess," he muttered. "But now that you're with us again"--he shot out a big paw and grabbed her by the wrist--"how about explaining some of this?" He was very gentle with the wrist. He didn't want to hurt her; he was wondering already, in fact, what had made him get so rough at all. But she didn't seem to mind. "I've got to go quickly," she told him. "I think Garf will be all right now, but he may take a notion to come back. And I have to see that the gate is closed before ..." "What gate? Get back where?" Farmer managed to put more curiosity than impatience into his tone. "Back to my own planet--Tamdivar, sun Nogore, member of the Galactic Federation," she said patiently. "The gate is a matter-transmitter between my world and yours. It was once in constant use, but my government closed it when you people got to the point where you were running around in submarines, using depth bombs, and just noticing our aircraft too much." * * * * * Somehow, what popped into Farmer's head was the chorus of an old song he had sung in boy's camp when very young. "_There's a hole in the bottom of the sea! There's a log in the hole...._"