Dalgard laid it aside. There were no more of the bombs, nor
would they have been effective against such a target. As far as he
could see, there was nothing among Raf's possessions which could help
them now.
One of the black shadows in the water moved to shore. The box swooped,
death striking at the merman who ran to shelter. A second followed
him, eluding the attack of the hound by a matter of inches. Now the
box buzzed angrily.
Dalgard, catching their thoughts, hurried to aid them. They undid the
knots of the hammock about the helpless stranger, leaving about him
only the necessary bandage ties. Now they had a crude net, woven, as
Dalgard knew, of undersea fibers strong enough to hold captive
plunging monsters a dozen times the size of the box. If they could net
it!
He had seen the exploits of the mermen hunters, knew their skill with
net and spear. But to scoop a flying thing out of the air was a new
problem.
"Not so!" the thought cut across his. "They have used such as this to
hunt us before, long ago. We had believed they were all lost. It must
be caught and broken, or it will hunt and kill and hunt again, for it
does not tire nor can it be beaten from any trail it is set upon.
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