Smugglers' Reef.

by John Blaine.

CHAPTER I

Night a.s.signment

"Adventure," Rick Brant said, "is kind of hard to define, because what may be adventure to one person may be commonplace to another." He took a bite of cake and stretched his long legs comfortably. "Now, you take flying with Scotty. That's the most adventurous thing I do."

Mr. and Mrs. Brant and Jerry Webster looked at Don Scott, the object of Rick's jibe, and waited for his reply. Verbal warfare between the two boys was a usual feature of the evening discussions on the big front porch of the Brant home on Spindrift Island.

Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy, grinned lazily. "You've proved your own point," he returned. "Flying with me is adventure to you but safe travel to anyone else. I'd say the most adventurous thing you do is drive a car."

Mrs. Brant, an attractive, motherly woman, poured another cup of coffee for Jerry Webster. The young reporter had started the discussion by stating wistfully that he wished he could share in some of the Brant adventures. "Why do you call Rick's driving adventurous?" she asked.

"The dictionary says so," Scotty replied. "One definition of adventure is 'a remarkable experience.'"

Hartson Brant, Rick's scientist father, grinned companionably at his son. "I agree with Scotty. Not only is Rick's driving a remarkable experience, but it fits the rest of the definition: 'The encountering of risks; hazardous enterprise.'"

Jerry Webster rose to Rick's defense. "Oh, I don't know. Rick always gets there."

"Sure he does," Scotty agreed. "Of course his pa.s.sengers always have nervous breakdowns, but he gets there."

Rick just grinned. He felt wonderful tonight. When you came right down to it, there was nothing that matched being at home with the family in the big house on Spindrift Island. The famous island off the New Jersey coast was home for the scientific foundation that his father headed, and for the scientist members. It was home for Scotty, too, and had been since the day he had rescued Rick from danger, as told in _The Rocket's Shadow_. As junior members of the foundation, Rick and Scotty had been included in a number of experiments and expeditions.

Rick wouldn't have missed a one of them, and if opportunity offered he would go again with just as much eagerness. But it was nice to return to familiar surroundings between trips. More than once, during lonely nights in far places, his thoughts had turned to evenings just like this one with the family and perhaps a close friend like Jerry gathered on the porch after dinner.

Rick, Scotty, and Barbara Brant had only recently returned from the South Pacific where they had vacationed aboard the trawler _Tarpon_ and had solved the mystery of _The Phantom Shark_. Barby had gone off to summer boarding school in Connecticut a few days later. Chahda, the Hindu boy who had been with the Brants since the Tibetan radar relay expedition described in _The Lost City_, had said good-bye to the group at New Caledonia and had returned to India. The scientists, Zircon, Weiss, and Gordon, were away doing research.

Suddenly Rick chuckled. "Speaking of adventure, I'll bet the biggest adventure Barby had on our whole trip to the Pacific was eating _rosette saute_ at the governor's in Noumea."

"What's that?" Jerry asked.

"Bat," Scotty replied. "A very large kind of fruit bat. Barby thought it was wonderful until she found out what it was."

"I should think so!" Mrs. Brant exclaimed.

"It tasted good," Rick said. "Something like chicken livers." He grinned. "Anyway, I sympathized with Barby. I felt kind of funny myself when I found out what it was."

Hartson Brant, an older edition of his athletic son, looked at the boy reflectively. He knocked ashes from his pipe. "Seems to me you've been pretty quiet since you got back, Rick. Lost your taste for excitement?

Or are you working on something?"

"Working," Rick said. "We scientists must never rest. We must labor always to push back the frontiers of ignorance." He put a hand on his heart and bowed with proper dramatic modesty. "I am working on an invention that will startle the civilized world."

"We will now bow our heads in reverent silence while the master tells all," Scotty intoned.

"I know," Jerry guessed. "You're working on a radar-controlled lawn mower so you can cut the gra.s.s while you sit on the porch."

"That's too trivial for a junior genius like Rick," Scotty objected.

"He's probably working on a self-energizing hot dog that lathers itself with mustard, climbs into a bun, and then holds a napkin under your chin while you eat it."

"Not a bad idea," Rick said soberly. "But that isn't it."

"Of course not," Hartson Brant put in. "You see, I happen to know what it is, due to a little invention of my own--an electronic mind reader."

Scotty gulped. "You didn't tell Mom what happened to those two pieces of b.u.t.terscotch pie, did you? I wanted her to blame it on Rick."

Rick asked unbelievingly, "An electronic mind reader? All right, Dad, what am I working on?"

"A device to penetrate the darkness."

Rick stared. His father had scored a hit. He demanded, "How did you know?"

"My new invention," Hartson Brant said seriously. "Oh, and one other clue. Yesterday morning the mail brought me a bill for a thousand feet of 16-millimeter infrared motion-picture film."

So that was it. Rick grinned. "I hope your new invention told you I asked the film company to send the bill to me and not to you."

"It did. The bill actually was addressed to the Spindrift Foundation, attention Mr. Brant. Since I didn't know which Mr. Brant was meant, I opened it. Don't worry, Rick. I'll let you pay it."

"Thanks, Dad," Rick said. "But don't make any sacrifices. You can pay it if you want to."

"Don't want to," Hartson Brant replied. "I haven't the slightest use for motion-picture film."

"Because Rick has the only motion-picture camera on the island,"

Scotty finished. He frowned at his friend. "Keeping secrets, huh?"

"I'm not sure it will work," Rick explained. He hated to brag about an idea and then have it turn out to be a dud. Consequently, he seldom mentioned that he was working on anything until he knew it would be successful.

"What does the film have to do with penetrating the darkness?" Jerry Webster inquired.

Rick caught the look of interest on his father's face. "Ask Dad," he said. "The electronic mind reader probably has told him all about it."

"Of course." The scientist chuckled. "Rick is planning to take movies at night without lights."

Jerry looked skeptical. "How?"

Rick stood up. "Long as we've started talking about it, I may as well show you."

The others rose, too. As they did so, a s.h.a.ggy little dog crawled from under Rick's chair where he had been napping.

"Dismal and I will put the cake away," Mrs. Brant said.

At the sound of his name the pup rolled over on his back and played dead, his only trick. Rick bent and scratched his ribs in the way the pup liked best. "Go with Mom," he commanded. "Come on, the rest of you. Maybe I can get some free advice from the director of the Spindrift Foundation."

Hartson Brant smiled. "If you're looking for a technical consultant, Rick, my price is very reasonable."

"It would have to be," Rick admitted ruefully. "I've spent my entire fortune on this thing."