elief.

"Wow! That's what I call fast service!" Bud exclaimed.

"It was sure a blamed sight easier'n I expected," Chow said. "Thought
fer a while we might end up feedin' the fishes!"

"You put on a real act, Chow!" Tom said, clapping the stout old cook on
the back. "Well, they've taken the bait. Now let's hope it pays off--for
us!"

The Americans swarmed below again, closed the hatch, and submerged. Tom
took his time in bringing the jet pumps up to speed. "Wonder if we
should pretend to proceed on course, or turn around and head for home?"
he murmured to Hank.

Hank's reply was cut short by a yell from Hanson at the sonarphone.

"Missile coming, skipper! Straight at us!"

CHAPTER XVI

A UNIQUE EXPERIMENT

"Bearing?" Tom cried.

"One-seven-five!" Arv Hanson sang out.

Tom gunned his port jet turbine and swung the _Swiftsure_ hard right.
The abrupt turn at high speed sent the craft sideslipping crazily like a
skidding race boat.

"Here she comes, skipper!" Bud yelled. He had rushed to the sonarscope
with the other members of the crew.

Tom's maneuver had carried them a good hundred yards off the missile's
course. Now he yanked a lever, pulling the cadmium rods still farther
from the atomic pile, in order to increase power and jet-blast their sub
still farther out of range.

But suddenly the men at the scope blanched. "The missile's turning too!"
Hank cried. "It's homing in on us!"

Unlike most Swift craft used on scientific expeditions, the cargo sub's
hull had not been coated with Tomasite. This would have insulated it
from all magnetic effects or any form of pulse detection. Tom had chosen
the _Swiftsure_ partly for this very reason, so that the Brungarian
rebels could easily pick up its trail after leaving Fearing.

How ironic if his choice should prove fatal! As the thought flashed
through Tom's brain, the missile came streaking into view through the
sub's transparent nose.

By this time, Tom had flipped up the _Swiftsure's_ diving planes. The
craft plummeted deeper into the ocean depths.

"Brand my whale blubber, she's turnin' again!" Chow gulped. The
missile's arc, as it veered around to follow, painted a streak of light
on the sonarscope.

Anxious moments raced by while Tom steered their craft in a deadly game
of tag with the sub-killer. Gradually the missile appeared to be losing
momentum.

"It's slowing down, all right!" Arv called out.

In a few minutes the missile had lost s