Both Scotty and Zircon had seen instantly what Rick was after. The
large, smooth ball would spread the arrow's impact over a greater area.
Scotty returned in a moment with the tools, and sawed the ball off. Then
Rick got a blunt arrow from the quiver and cut the metal tip off with
his knife. He bored a hole of the proper size in the base of the ball.
The arrow fitted perfectly.

Rick tested the balance of the now-ungainly arrow and shook his head.
"I'm not sure I can hit anything with it."

"Get the bow!" Zircon commanded. "Scotty, put a screw through the base
of the ball to hold it on the shaft. I'm going to rig a backstop so Rick
can practice."

The scientist found a tarpaulin and strung it up like a curtain across
the stern. At the center of the tarpaulin he pinned a work glove.

Rick studied the setup. The canvas would give, absorbing the shock of
the arrow and allowing it to fall on deck. It would be all right. He
didn't want to chance losing the ball.

He consulted with Scotty, and they paced off the approximate distance he
would have to shoot, then he climbed on the pilothouse roof to get the
proper elevation. Spreading the bow a few times to loosen his muscles,
he began to practice.

The arrow was terribly nose heavy, and its whole response to the bow was
changed. At first he missed by two or three feet. Then, as he continued
to practice, his accuracy began to improve.

He stopped after a while and had a coke. "I'll never be able to shoot a
normal arrow again," he complained.

Scotty grinned. "Make this shot and you'll never have to shoot again."

By the time Chahda emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Rick was on
target. Four out of five shots hit the glove. Then, nine out of ten were
in the palm.

Zircon called a halt, took the glove from the tarp, and slipped it on.
He tucked a folded handkerchief into the glove, then stood with hand
outstretched before the tarp. "Hit it," he invited.

"I'll hurt you," Rick objected.

"No. My hand will give with the arrow. I want an idea of the impact."

Rick nodded. He nocked the arrow, took a firm stance, and drew. For an
instant he held, then loosed smoothly.

The ball smacked into the scientist's hand. The scientist swung lightly
with the blow and stood grinning, the ball and its projecting shaft held
firmly in his hand.

"A real beanball," Zircon boomed. "It will do, Rick. Now check your
equipment and put it away. We have to make plans."

Rick re