"Wonder where he got it," Rick mused.
"Hard to tell. They're expensive guns, believe me."
The Cub had been flying only a few hundred feet above the water. Behind them, the New Jersey coast was still in sight. Rick climbed to a thousand feet and told Scotty to start looking for the fishing fleet.
"How many shots can you get out of that air rifle?" Rick asked.
"Just one. It's automatic loading, but it has to be pumped up each time. That's not as hard as it sounds, though, because the pump is made so that two strokes will give it a full air charge. It's about as fast firing as a single-shot .22 rifle."
Rick's eyes scanned the horizon. "How do you suppose Carrots tracked us to Cap'n Mike's shack?"
"Easy enough. He could hike along the shore and keep us in sight."
"He was risking being seen when he put that warning on the seat. Suppose one of us had looked out the window?"
"Then he would have pretended to be just hiking, or looking at the boat or something. It wasn't really much of a risk."
"I suppose not," Rick agreed. Small specks on the horizon caught his eye suddenly and he pointed. "There's the fleet!"