and attached the line to a cleat. Scotty was already at the wheel.

"Go!" Rick commanded.

Scotty shot the searchlight beam toward the entrance to the harbor and
put the engines in gear. The MTB moved with gathering speed, following
the clear path indicated by the searchlight. Once the light picked up a
vinta, but off to one side. Scotty gave it a wide berth.

As they cleared the bay, Rick got the first-aid kit and took Chahda down
into the cabin. The Hindu boy's shoulder was covered with blood. Rick
hurriedly cut way the clothes, afraid of what he might find. Zircon
joined him, watching anxiously.

"Is not bad," Chahda said. "Just made me stop fighting for a few
minutes."

Rick saw that the boy was right. A bullet had creased his right
shoulder, digging a deep furrow from which the blood welled. It was
painful, but at least they weren't faced with the problem of getting the
bullet out. He sterilized the wound and bound it tightly with gauze
pads. Then he washed Chahda clean of blood and put him to bed with a
blanket over him in case of shock.

"How about you, Professor?" Rick asked. "You said something about being
wounded, but I don't see any blood."

Zircon chuckled grimly. "Not much blood, anyway. How did you happen to
be wearing shoes?"

Rick explained that he and Scotty had awakened before the attack and had
gotten partially dressed to go on deck.

"Then you don't know," Zircon said. Suddenly he put his head back and
roared with laughter. "Did you ever see anything weirder than those
pirates dancing? I thought they'd gone insane in wholesale lots!"

Rick stared at the scientist. "I noticed," he said. "I wondered about
it, too."

"But you don't know the reason!" Zircon pointed at Chahda, who grinned
weakly from his bunk. "There's the cause of it all. He routed the enemy
with minimum help from us, even after he was wounded."

Rick turned to stare at Chahda. "What's he talking about?"

The Hindu boy shook his head. "I was sleepy, and I afraid maybe fall
asleep, which big disgrace. So what I do? I fix things to hurt pirates,
but also I hurt Professor Zircon, for which I plenty sorry."

"But how?" Rick demanded.

"Oh, I remembered that in Jolo I never see Moros wear shoes. Not very
many, anyway."

Zircon had mentioned shoes, too. Rick groaned with impatience. "What
have shoes to do with it?"

Chahda grinned. "I borrow the professor's cannon ammunition. All around
edge of deck I sprinkled, so when p