"Well, what did you think of it?" Biff asked.
"We have bigger bores on the Amazon," replied Kamuka nonchalantly. "This was only six feet. Ours are as high as sixteen."
"And the way those sailboats took off was nothing," put in Li. "Not compared with the way we ride the rollers with our surfboards at Waikiki."
"It's nice to hear you fellows agree on something," laughed Biff. As he spoke, a gong sounded from amidships. "And there is something else you both like, the first call to dinner. Wait while I put my camera in the cabin; then I'll join you."
Biff had left the door of his cabin unlocked. When he opened the door, he was conscious of a slight stir within. Biff looked toward the porthole that served as a window. Momentarily, it blacked out, then showed plainly against the dimming sunset, as though a figure had squirmed through. Biff stepped out, closing the door, and called down to Li and Kamuka:
"Take a look over the port side and see if someone is hanging on outside my cabin!"
A figure had been hanging on, but no longer. Pushing off from the side of the ship, it straightened in mid-air and plummeted down the side of the freighter, punching the water with scarcely a splash. By the time Li and Kamuka looked over the rail and Biff was gazing from the porthole of the cabin, the lithe brown swimmer was heading shoreward, unseen on the now darkened surface of the river.
The cabin itself was empty. Of that, Biff felt sure as he turned on the light, until a familiar voice spoke almost at his elbow.
"Listen carefully, Biff," the voice announced. "I have something important to tell you—"
The effect was electric on Biff. "It's Dad's voice!" he exclaimed. By then, the door of the cabin had opened again, and Li and Kamuka were staring in, both bewildered as the voice continued: