g attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible
with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one
thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them?

Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion
through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single
guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to
Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be
especially alert.

Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they
foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of
phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a
mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't
cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but
they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles.

The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble
track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short
time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use
it for cover.

Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be
some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could
hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the
creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two
black-covered heads.

There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until
now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated
quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The
water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was
essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least
forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to
fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air,
total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really
deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not
enough air to take them to Steve's place.

He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast
thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same
track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead,
heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered.
When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the
north shore of the Little Choptank. They