"When the Hunter finishes his checkup, I'd like very much to go back out," Maeta said when the outrigger had bees pulled up. "I like being on the water, and this is as good an excuse as anyone could have- not that anyone needs an excuse. I wouldn't have to do enough diving to bother you, Doctor, judging by the number of times they've found large pieces of metal. There's room for me in your kayak if you'd rather use that; I admit it's a lot lighter."

Jenny's feelings were mixed. The search itself was getting boring, except when she remembered what it meant to Bob. Even then it was beginning to be duty rather than pleasure. Also, she was beginning, to change her mind, for reasons she couldn't have given even to herself, about the wisdom of having Maeta in the group.

Bob thought the idea was excellent, however, and the Hunter also voted in favor of it; so the group headed for the kayak, with Seever and Maeta carrying the concrete-and-pipe assembly. The remains of the other coil of rope, which had failed the day before, still lay on one of the duckboards in the kayak's bottom, and Jenny picked this up and tossed it out on the sand. Then she gave an exclamation. "Hey! Look at this!"

The others, gathering beside her, had no trouble seeing what she meant. At the side of the duckboard, where it came closest to the canvas but had been hidden by the rope, both the wood and the canvas were deeply stained. Jenny touched the canvas, and cried out again as the brown-tinted portion, nearly three inches across, crumbled away.

Her father bent over and sniffed.

"Nothing I can tell now," he said, "but it looks like acid-battery acid, for a guess."

"That punk Shorty!" snapped Jenny.

"Or Andre?" queried Bob.

"Why him?" asked the redhead. "He's asked me if he could come out with us, and I said yes, in a few days."

"Maybe the few days got too many. I can't see Shorty doing anything as serious as this; he's more the chalk-in-the-blackboard-eraser type."

"I suppose the acid was poured on the rope, and the bit that got on the canvas was accidental," Seever said slowly. "I can't see why it was done at all, though I'm afraid I agree with Bob that it's something Andre might do."

"It's certainly a serious question," Maeta agreed, "but there's another. Are you going to let this hold up the real project? Isn’t it still important to find those ships if we can? Or do you want to wait until the diving equipment gets here, if it ever does?"

"Things will go so much faster with it that I'd al most just as soon wait," Bob admitted. "We're spending an awful lot of time and effort to cover an awful tiny patch of map. Maybe I'll last until the breathing stuff gets here-"

"And maybe you won't," snapped Jenny. "Mae's right. We've got to keep this going."

"We can use my rigger until your kayak is fixed," Maeta added. "After that, too, if you want. The rest-of my family won't mind-and I don't have to tell them what we're doing, Bob." The Hunter was impressed; he hadn't known that the small girl had been so aware of Bob's feelings. Had she been reading his host's expression that well, or had Jenny told her? Maeta was continuing with her ideas. "Look, I don't work at the library every day. Jen, you and I can do some of the job while Bob is working at the refinery-"

Bob cut in with the Hunter's objection to being so far separated from his host. Maeta waved it away.

"He won't have to be," she said. "We won't need the Hunter. I can go down to check how far off the bottom the box is every few minutes, and we can make position work easier by using a lot of those marker buoys. We can make more of them easily. We'll fill that map three or four times as fast as you're doing it now. Come on, we'll start right now. I suppose you don't want to come, Doctor; Bob's all right now, and you don't like to spend too much time away from your office. But come along if you like, of course; there's plenty of room in the rigger."

The Hunter, who had seen comparatively little of human females during Bob's college career, was beginning to wonder whether the tendency to take control of things was universal among them, or merely half-universal among human beings. Many of Bob's male friends at college had been pretty bossy, too, the alien reflected.

"Thanks, I’ll go back to the office," Seever answered, "but you take care of yourself out there, Mae. You're probably safe from sunburn and coronary, but there are other things under the water, and you'll be alone." Maeta's face lost its expression of rather pixyish humor, and she looked Seever soberly in the eye.

"I know, Doctor.

Ill be careful-really."

She turned to the others. "Let's go."

The next day or two went well, except for Bob's condition; joint and muscle pains were growing much worse, and neither Seever nor the Hunter was able to do anything about them. The neostigmine Seever had sent for seemed to palliate the weakness, which had not been experienced for some time, and the nausea attacks also seemed to have vanished. Both the human and nonhuman experimenters would have liked to take credit for the latter, but neither dared to; neither was sure it wouldn't come back.

The weather permitted the girls to work outside the reef, and a very encouraging amount of area was added to the Hunter's map from their reports.

The Hunter himself was shocked to find that he had mixed feelings about this. He would have been happier to be on the spot himself. Now he found that he was spending much of his host's sleeping time wondering what they would do when the entire planned area had been covered without success. Should they expand the area, or go over the whole thing again? Which would give the better chance? There had been little more than guesswork available to establish the area in the first place, but it had seemed such reasonable guesswork!

He sometimes asked these questions of Bob, but had little profit from it. The young man was either in one of his philosophical moods, and merely answered that they could face those difficulties when and if they arose, or was irritated and would threaten to calm them both with alcohol if the Hunter didn't stop bothering him. The alien did not really believe the threat, but had learned to be uneasy about human beings who had talked themselves too loudly into a corner.

The real, major hitch in the general operation occurred five days after the Hunter was fished from the bottom. It was not only a Sunday but also a major holiday-the Fourth of July-which made some difference in the regular work pattern. The refinery operated, of course, but Bob did not have to report until midmorning. His father had left the house quite early, Daphne and her mother went a little later to join most of Ell's holidaying population on the beach and dock, and Bob had remained late in bed. He got his own breakfast with little time to spare, and headed down toward the road on his bicycle. His joints were a little less bothersome than usual, but still made motion uncomfortable.

The Kinnaird house was slightly more than two hundred feet from the main road. This end of the island was heavily overgrown with the thorny byproducts of PFI's early efforts to breed fast-growing material for the culture tanks. The driveway was not perfectly straight, so it was impossible for Bob to see far ahead. It was also, fortunately, impossible for him to ride very fast.

The machine was almost to the final turn, ten or fifteen yards from the main road, when it stopped. Bob didn't. He "gave a startled yell as he went over the handlebars, but that was all his reflexes accomplished. The Hunter provided the usual tightening up around joints to help in sprain defense. Neither response proved really useful.

The driveway was not paved-it was really little more than a path, though a jeep could negotiate it. On the other hand, it was far from soft. It was met first by Bob's left hand, followed closely by shoulder and head on the same side. Both forearm bones snapped, the flesh on the left side of his cheek was badly torn, and his left ear was almost removed. The Hunter had plenty to do, but this did not include anesthesia; his host was thoroughly knocked out.