an sit down. This may last
for an hour or so."

Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee."

"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled
quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he
reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat
shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good.

Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought
from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was
dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and
water heating for coffee.

"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually.

"Sure. We're--" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the
connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched
by a flying saucer!"

"Right. Worried?"

Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is
welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?"

"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and
watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was
only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he
added.

Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table
and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be
increasing in intensity.

"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said
'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'"

"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked.

"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour."

The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel
that?"

The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt.
"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out
more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind."

"I'll go," Scotty offered.

"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by."

Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops,
like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated,
then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to
the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He
could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat
too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could
hold.

He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind
direction had changed and tha