"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor."
"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us breakfast."
"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with flying stingarees?'"
Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying stingarees?'"
Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he answers!"
CHAPTER IV
Steve's Place
A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, obviously tended, and more woods.
"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The first house with a dock."