cautioned Mel Flagler.
As they talked, the unidentified submarine was bearing steadily toward the mainland. Fathometer soundings showed it was on a steep upward slope of the continental shelf.
Presently a foaming gush of bubbles showed
ENEMY FROGMEN 121
that the sub ahead was blowing its tanks. The jetmarine followed as it surfaced and Bud hastily manned the periscope.
“What’re they up to?” Mel asked tensely.
“Don’t know yet, but the hatch is opening,” Bud reported. Suddenly he gave an excited gasp. “Jumpin* jets! They’re sending out a couple of frogmen!”
Bud’s companions were electrified by the news.
“Spies!” Zimby exclaimed.
“What do we do now?” piped up Mack Avery, the third man in Bud’s crew.
“Hadn’t we better radio the Coast Guard and the FBI?”
Bud wrenched away from the eyepiece. “I have another idea! Any of you fellows game to go with me and capture those spies?”
All three of his companions volunteered eagerly. Bud chose Mel Flagler, then took another sight through the periscope.
“The sub’s submerging again,” he reported. “That’ll give us a clear field.
Zimby, you and Mack keep an eye on that baby while we’re gone, and be plenty careful she doesn’t spot you!”
“Roger! And take this roll of wire to tie up your prisoners.”
Hastily Bud and Mel changed into swimming trunks and donned hydrolungs.
They went out through the air lock, plunged into the bracing salt water, and switched on their ion-drive units.
“Can you see ‘em?” Mel asked over his mike.
122 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
“Not yet. Let’s speed up before we lose ‘em completely!”
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