whimsically.

"A few."

The boys stared.

The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see
one now and again."

"Really?" Rick asked.

"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like
we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers--we get both--but
they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway."

The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor
believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a
catch of fish.

"Seen any recently?" Scotty inquired.

"Two nights ago. Always see 'em about dusk. Real plain, against the sky.
Sun hits 'em when they get high enough. They shine, sometimes silver,
sometimes red."

"Funny we haven't seen anything about it in the papers," Rick commented.

"Oh, I don't know. Used to be we'd report 'em, and the papers carried a
few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern
Shore folks were short a few marbles. We got tired of being laughed at,
so no one says much about the saucers any more."

"But lots of people see them?" Scotty asked.

"Sure. Anyone that happens to be outdoors."

"Ever report these sightings to the authorities?" Rick wanted to know.

"Did at first. Called the State Police myself. The Coast Guard boys are
located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore.
Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you
might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by
one."

Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a
flying saucer?"

"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab
lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we
found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by
several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was
workin' at about the time he was there."

The boys digested this startling information. "Maybe he was drowned,"
Rick ventured.

"In a creek? Not likely! Link's been crabbin' for thirty years in these
waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he
fell over, he could almost walk ashore. Tide was out and he was settin'
lines in about six feet, and he's better than two yards high. Shore
wasn't more than twenty yards away."

"Maybe he hit his head when he fell," Scotty suggested.

"Possible, but even if he drowned we'd have found his body."

Rick shook