Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a look."
"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away."
Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?"
Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental aircraft?"
Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no motor or any kind of power plant."
"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything—except what made that stingaree fly."
Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking pins in it."
"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously.
The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, and very, very good.
"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last mouthful.