nd talk."

Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in
the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as
the boys had known he would.

"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the
mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I
see you."

Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get
little sleep tonight."

"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right
away." He managed to say it with a straight face.

"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television
tonight?"

Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western
drama."

"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an
escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama
for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type
show."

"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang."

"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick,
nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling
aspoxium!"

"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play,
Brant!"

"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret
that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott."

Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the
only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by
finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland."

The boys groaned.

It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show
following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed
many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from
other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to
watch it, but lingered for the first reel--and were lost.

It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done
that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired
to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the
end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee.

By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their
equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets
and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek.

Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would st