his head. "It's hard to believe a man could be kidnaped by a
flying saucer. Couldn't he have gone ashore and walked out of the area?
Maybe he _wanted_ to disappear."

"You're mighty hard to convince," the proprietor said good-humoredly. It
was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or
not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was
settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with
any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now
would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He
lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough
money for his needs."

"How long ago did this happen?" Rick asked.

"Two, three weeks. Not long."

"Where?" Scotty queried.

"Few miles south. In a creek off the Little Choptank."

"That's where we're going!" Rick exclaimed.

"So? Well, watch for Swamp Creek. It's on the chart. That's where they
got Link. Where you headed?"

"A place called Martins Creek," Rick replied.

"Uh-huh. Well, Martins is on the south shore, and Swamp Creek is on the
north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on
the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract
flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks."

Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on
the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the
pilot will catch one of his six legs in it."

"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will
you? Always wanted to see one at close range."

"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how
close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise.

CHAPTER II

The Flying Stingaree

Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of
an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a
fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the
dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even
some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of
miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would
take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore.

The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved steadily across the mouth of
one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River.
It was a good three miles across the river's mouth,