o use in instructing his
pupils. Furthermore, the island boats were always at Gus's disposal
and he frequently borrowed one to go on a Sunday fishing excursion.

The short hop to Whiteside took only a few minutes. Rick taxied to the
hangar and he and Scotty climbed out. Gus's plane, a light private job
of a different make than Rick's and painted red, was standing on the
apron. It had the name of the airport painted on the side in large
letters.

Gus came out of the office and walked to meet them. He was a short,
stocky young man only a few years older than Rick, and his slightly
sour look hid a keen sense of humor. "I called my lawyer," he
announced. "He'll be right here."

"Lawyer?" Rick sometimes had a hard time knowing when Gus was pulling
his leg. "What for?"

Gus shrugged. "You're borrowing my plane when your own is in perfect
flying condition. It must be for something illegal. You want my plane
to be seen instead of yours. You want people to think I did it. So I
asked my lawyer to come. I'll have a witness to prove I wasn't in the
plane when the dastardly deed was done."

"What deed?" Scotty asked seriously.

Gus looked wise. "You don't trap me like that," he said. "If I
admitted what I know, that would make me an accessory before the fact.
Nope, I'm keeping quiet about this." He leered. "But I know!"

"Accessory!" Rick hooted. "You know what that means? Something extra
and usually unnecessary."

Gus looked hurt. "I'll remember that next time you come in for an
engine check and I'll put emery in your crankcase. Go on. Get in and
I'll whirl the fan for you."

Rick and Scotty climbed into Gus's plane, grinning. Rick checked the
controls rapidly, then called, "Ignition off."

"Off," Gus repeated, and pulled the propeller through to prime the
engine.

"Contact," Rick called, and Gus pulled the prop. The engine caught at
once. Rick warmed it, watching his gauges, then waved to Gus and
taxied to the end of the runway. As they were airborne, Scotty took
the speed graphic he had brought and checked to see that a film pack
was in place. Rick banked around and headed for Seaford.

There was no buzzing of Creek House this time. Rick flew in a straight
line, just far enough seaward so that Scotty could get a good picture.
As they passed the cache area, Scotty leaned far out and snapped the
shutter. Then he turned to Rick, grinning. "Still there. About ten
cases. It looks as if we've got the goods on them."