Odin shrugged. Gunnar’s philosophy couldn’t be shaken.
But the dwarf was serious about the rifle. “One shot would bring the rocks down upon us, Odin. Throw the thing away. It’s no good.”
“Not until I find a better weapon.” Jack Odin shook his head.
At last they struggled through to the water’s edge. It could not be called a beach, or even a landing, for the rocks came down at a sixty-degree angle.
“I have a boat over here,” Gunnar said, and led the way.
Going parallel to the water was nearly as hard as coming down to it. Then Gunnar, who by now was a score of yards ahead, stopped and held up his hand.
When Odin came up he whispered, “We have a visitor.”
Peering behind a huge rock Odin saw a tiny motorboat moored in a little inlet that was barely large enough to fit it. But the boat, curious as it was in Opal, was not the attraction.
A great sea-serpent had coiled up in it and was taking a nap. The thing was nearly a foot thick. Though it was coiled closely its tail hung over into the water. Its head looked very much like the head of an enlarged moccasin, except that there were long barbels about its mouth. And just below the throat were two limbs that were a bit like forearms, but were made up of long spikes joined by pulsing white skin.