“A call to the kill,” Sally had thought to herself. She was thrilled to the very center of her being, but said never a word. She wanted Silent Storm to listen and form his own opinions.
Slowly, surely, quite like the wolves of the Great White North, the broadcasters drew closer and closer together.
“Closing in on the prey.” Scarcely could she avoid speaking aloud.
Then came the loud, irregular barks of apparent command.
Strangely enough, when all this excitement was over and the broadcasters began to separate there were only five. One had gone silent.
“That,” said Silent Storm, mopping his brow, “is one of the strangest things I ever heard.”
“Is it an enemy sub wolf-pack?” Sally asked.
“It would be only one other thing,” Storm spoke slowly. “It could be a flight of our bombers concentrating on a target and then delivering their cargoes of death and destruction.”
“Yes,” Sally agreed, “the broadcasts fit that picture quite as well.”
“We can only wait and see,” said Storm. “We must do all we can to get Nancy and you on a ship at the earliest possible moment.”