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DATE TROUBLE 73
like magic, shooting them straight toward the surface.
“Wow!” Bud shoved back his face mask as they broke water. “That baby was after us and no mistake!”
Tom nodded, treading water. “Let’s not stick around here, either! We’ll soon have company again if we do!”
Bud did not argue. “Where to, skipper?”
In the fresh salt air, with the sunshine sparkling on the waves, it was hard to believe that an enemy submarine was hot on their trail. But both youths realized their peril was growing by the moment.
“Back toward the Sea Hound,” Tom said, pointing north-northwest.
“Submerge as we go!”
Bud circled his thumb and forefinger, then adjusted his mask, and the two boys plunged back in. On a sloping downward course, they sped along like undersea rockets, their ion jets functioning perfectly. Minutes later, they sighted the seacopter.
Hank waved to them through the cabin window as they glided past. The air lock opened speedily and the two boys entered. Both heaved sighs of relief when they were safely inside.
“Somethin” wrong?” Chow asked, sniffing trouble.
“A strange submarine,” Tom reported. “Brun—
74 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
garian more than likely. It may be heading this way if they’ve tracked us.”
“A sub?” Hank was startled. “We’ve picked up nothing on sonar!”
“Check again,” Tom ordered.
The sonarman bent to his scope and Hank listened intently over the hydrophones. Neither could detect any sign of another craft.
“Probably the same one that fired on us the last time,” Tom said grimly.