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Updated: June 6, 2025
Then the boys crossed the street to the Sports Center. Extra mouthpieces for the lungs were in stock. They chose one that seemed softer and smaller than the regulation models, then started for the newspaper. Two doors away from the Sports Center was the town's only barbershop. As they passed, Scotty suddenly grabbed Rick's arm and said hurriedly, "Come back!"
"I've only got one shot in this." Rick's instinctive reaction was the same. They had to rescue Tony! But they also had a job to do. "Wait," he cautioned. "They probably don't know we're here. Tony wouldn't give us away. If they find out, we'll lose the pictures, and we may make it worse for Tony. Let's stay right here and watch." Scotty subsided.
Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long.
Please use it to wrap the cat." Rick did so, and handed it over. "Thank you. I appreciate your co-operation, since I am a man who detests unnecessary violence. You have acted wisely." He backed to the door, opened it, and closed it behind him. Rick's eyes met Scotty's across the room, and both grinned widely, but they said nothing in case the stranger had lingered outside the door.
He knew Scotty, and his pal wouldn't get excited over some silly business that Barby might write about. Scotty produced the letter. "It's addressed to both Rick and me," he began, "and it's from both Barby and Jan. Shall I read?" "Go on," Rick said impatiently, and had to bear Scotty's knowing grin. Scotty knew that Rick's bump of curiosity was the largest thing he owned. "Okay.
The boys planed downward, a few feet above the sand until Rick's gauge read 120 feet. This was the limit of their dive. Going deeper would mean stopping for decompression on the way up. He recalled that the waves came into the beach from a slightly northerly direction and motioned to Scotty that they should turn north.
He was satisfied that they both had a thorough understanding of team swimming and enough sense to stay out of at least the more obvious troubles novices can get into. He was content now to let them go off on their own, which they did fairly often. After Rick's estimated hour the girls were ready except that Barby had to make a phone call.
"We can probe for any cracks we might have missed, and I'll take some over-all shots of the wreck. Then we'll call it a day." They followed Rick's plan. He took pictures of Scotty, with wrecking bar, prying at likely places in the exposed part of the ship. But Scotty uncovered nothing of interest.
There was a stand, and a metal hood. He gestured toward it. "What's that?" "It's for treating dry hair," the barber answered. "Special oil treatment, with electric massage. Very good." Rick's hair was dry from frequent immersion in both salt and fresh water. Being inquisitive about everything in the world, he thought about trying it. "Maybe I'll have time for a treatment," he said.
One frogman moved away a few feet, and Rick's breathing stopped as the man's belt light flashed toward him. Had the frogman been looking, he could have seen the boys, but he was too interested in the second frogman's actions. The second frogman crouched over the brass object, hand moving. Rick recoiled as a wail lanced through his head with painful impact.
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