They removed the housing.

“Must be a flashlight around here somewhere. Have to have one if we’re going to find anything.”

Li found one in the tool chest.

Biff took it and directed its beam of light on the top of the engine.

“Nice little engine. A four-cylinder Indian Marine. Ought to shove us along around eight or ten knots.”

He placed the light’s beam over the engine, inch by inch. Suddenly he brought the light’s rays to a fixed spot. Biff bent low.

“Never saw anything like this on one of these engines. Take a look, Li.”

Li bent down beside Biff.

The boys were looking at a crudely made object, resembling a small tin can. It was roughly attached just below the engine’s carburetor.

“Let’s get out of here,” Biff said, swallowing. His throat had become dry and tight. “That thing’s a bomb—a homemade bomb.”

Li was already heading back to the cockpit.

“Alloo there! Ship ahoy!” came a cry from the dock.

Biff and Li burst on deck just as his father and Mr. Mahenili started to step aboard.

“Stay back, Dad! Stay back! There’s a bomb on the boat!” Biff yelled.

Breathlessly, the boys told their fathers of spotting the prowler on board, of the brief tussle, and the results of their investigation.

“It’s a good thing we came down,” Tom Brewster said. “You were late. We thought you might have run up against something.”

“We sure did, Dad,” Biff assured him.

“I’ll have to investigate. Can you tell me exactly where this thing you think is a bomb is located?”

“You’re not going on board, are you, Dad?” Biff asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

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