His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush. A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see the white circle of water around the single propeller. Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The texture was that of a smooth plastic. Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry. This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have heard the slap of a bullet on the water. Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. Scotty would have no trouble finding him. Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the scene. Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting. [Illustration: _Now to find out what he had_] Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all right?" "Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay." "Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back toward Martins Creek.