"It isn't exactly a social call," he said apologetically. "We need your help, Cap'n Mike."
The old man looked at him quizzically. "What for? Fishin' or detectin'?"
"Detectin'," Rick answered.
"Accepted! Now I see why you were lookin' for strangers. When and where do I start?"
"Right now, at Spindrift. Can you come?"
"Wait'll I turn off my coffeepot. Anything I'll need?"
"We'll want you to do a little fishing, too."
Cap'n Mike nodded and hurried up the pier to his shack. In a few minutes he was back, rod case and tackle box in hand. He cast off and climbed into the plane. "Let's go, boy! Time's awastin'. Who we after this time?"
Rick started the engine and was air-borne before he answered. Then, almost immediately, he had to land again to take on gas. By the time he was in the air en route to Spindrift, Cap'n Mike was squirming so impatiently that the whole plane seemed to vibrate.
"Well, get on with it," he said irritably.