larly
between Baltimore and Portland, Maine, meeting ocean-going smugglers
and in turn supplying small contraband runners like Brad Marbek and
the Kelsos all the way up and down the coast.

"I expected some big ocean freighter," Scotty remarked.

They had been flying steadily out to sea. Now Rick banked around so
Scotty could look through the glasses once more.

"I can see them on the horizon," Scotty said, glasses to his eyes.
"They've met. The lights are almost together. Hey! The lights just
went out!"

"Probably turned out so as not to attract the attention of any passing
ships," Rick guessed. "They can't see, as we can, that they're the
only ships around. We'll stall for a while before going back. Give
them time to get rigged for passing cargo."

He lifted the camera to his lap, then trimmed the Cub so it would fly
by itself. Scotty took the power pack on his own lap and checked again
to see that the dynamo-driven spring was wound tight.

Rick had connected the infrared attachment so that a switch was handy
under his thumb when his left hand held the camera in position. The
camera itself, run by its own spring, was operated by his right hand.
He pressed the infrared switch and heard the dynamo whine softly.
Scotty immediately wound it another half turn to bring the spring up
to full tension again.

"Wish I had enough hours to do the flying," he said regretfully. "Then
you could photograph without worrying about the plane."

Scotty had his license, but he had not yet accumulated the experience
that would fit him for an adventure like tonight's. Or rather this
morning's.

Rick twisted the lens barrel, making sure it was full open, then he
twisted the focusing ring until it stopped. Now the camera was focused
on infinity. All he needed to do was aim and shoot. He looked at
Scotty. His friend's face was a white blur in the dimness inside the
plane. "Think we've given them enough time?"

"I think so. They wouldn't need much. The supply ship would have cargo
booms all rigged and the first load in the cargo net. Better turn
back."

Rick banked, letting the Cub slip as he did so. They lost altitude
rapidly and he watched the silvery sheen of the ocean resolve itself
into waves. There was not enough wind to make foam or whitecaps. The
two ships would have no trouble coming alongside and moving cargo. He
leveled off at five hundred feet on a course that would take them
directly over the vessels.

Both boys st