rly. There was no reason to be disturbed about it, yet he felt a
quick wave of apprehension. He had better look over the scratches and
get out.

Holding on to the corner girder, he crouched and leaned outward toward
the marks. There were two bright scratches about a foot apart. Between
them the entire rust surface had been disturbed. Something had rested
there, or, more likely, it had been clamped. He swung back a little to
look at the inner side of the girder and saw continuations of the
scratches that terminated in round spots. When he leaned forward to
look at the outer side, the marks were there, but so slight that they
wouldn't be noticeable unless one were looking for them.

His brows creased. He couldn't think of anything that would make marks
just like those. He wished he had brought a camera. A photo would have
given them something to study later.

Then, as he turned and started back, something whistled over his head
and slapped sharply into the upright girder. His first thought was
that Scotty had thrown a pebble or something to attract his attention,
but when he looked, Scotty was facing the other way.

The whistle and slap came again. This time he looked up, and the
strength drained from his knees. A few inches over his head were
silvery splashes against the rusty surface, and they were the silvery
marks of splattered lead!

He was being shot at!

Rick reacted like a suddenly released spring. He dropped to his knees,
his hands reaching for a hold on the girder. They hooked over the
inner edge and he rolled free on the opposite side. For an instant he
dangled in space, then he dropped, his knees flexing to take the shock
of landing. It wasn't much of a drop, a little over fourteen feet. And
as he dropped he yelled Scotty's name.

Scotty started for him on a dead run, but Rick's yell stopped him.

"Start the boat and cast off!"

Then Rick's legs flew as he ran for the launch. For the moment, both
of them were cut off from Creek House by the high board fence. But to
get clear they would have to come out of the fence shelter and into
the view of the second-floor sniper once more. He planned as he ran,
and as he jumped across the water to the launch, he gasped, "Stay
close to the reef and pick up speed. Get going."

The launch was already in motion. Rick dropped into the seat next to
Scotty and his pal pushed the gas pedal all the way. The nose lifted
and the stern dug in.

Rick turned to watch, and