The plan of action had been set in advance. Scotty hurried out, while Rick settled down to wait. Scotty, using Jerry's car, would locate the houseboater at the pier. Rick would stand by, ready to take over as necessary.

A short time later Scotty called on the Megabuck network. "I'm in the pier parking lot. He's tying the pram up."

"Can he see you?"

"Not unless he comes over and inspects the cars."

"Okay."

After a few minutes, Scotty reported again. "He's hiking in the direction of Whiteside. Thumb out. He wants a ride."

"Don't give him one," Barby interjected urgently. "He might recognize you."

"He's hitchhiking," Scotty explained. "He doesn't even know I exist."

"What are his chances?" Rick asked.

"Good. There's a fair amount of traffic."

Rick waited, alert for Scotty's next report. It came almost immediately. "I'm moving. A truck picked him up. Stand by."

Then soon afterward, "We're coming into the outskirts of town."

Rick walked from the newspaper office to the sidewalk and leaned casually against the building, eyes on the direction from which the quarry and Scotty would come. He felt just fine. The little network was taking all the strain out of shadowing. He thought of the many times when such communications would have come in very handy indeed.

"Moving down Main Street," Scotty reported. "Watch it!"

Rick saw a truck come into sight and slow as it neared the barbershop. A man got out, thanked the driver, then stood looking around. He spotted the barbershop, but instead of going in, he went to the window of the Sports Center and stood quietly, ostensibly inspecting equipment. Rick decided he was just looking the street over before making contact.

"I'm on him," he said quietly for Scotty's benefit. "He's casing the street. He'll probably go into the barbershop any minute now."

Scotty drove down the main street, and as he passed the barbershop, he reported, "There's a man in the chair. Maybe our friend is waiting for him to leave."

"We'll see."

Rick's plans had not gone beyond this point. The objective had been to see whether the houseboaters made contact with the barber. But now he realized that a simple contact wasn't proof of anything. Who was to say that the houseboater hadn't really wanted a haircut?

If only there were some way of overhearing the conversation....

Jerry Webster came out and stood beside him. "See your man?"

Rick gestured. "In front of the Sports Center."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I was just wondering the same thing."

Jerry grinned. "Don't tell me you don't have a complete plan! Why, I thought by now you'd have the barbershop wired for sound."

Rick stared at him. Wired! Why not? And it wasn't too late, if Jerry would help.

"Will you do something more for me?"

Jerry looked martyred. "Might as well. I'm in this up to my neck, anyway."

Scotty joined them. He had parked the car around the corner. "What's happening?"

"Just had a brain storm," Rick told him. He explained rapidly, and the two started to chuckle.

"It should work," Scotty agreed. "Go ahead. I'll take over the watch. Hey! There he goes."

The houseboater had just walked into the barbershop.

Rick ran to the next corner and into the grocery store. He hesitated briefly, then picked out two boxes of cereal, and added a box of sugar. He had them put into a bag, paid for them, and hurried back.

Inside the newspaper office, he took out his scout knife and carefully slit the top of one cereal box. He removed the little radio from his pocket, unplugged the earphone, and put the radio on top of the cereal. He borrowed cellophane tape and taped the box shut, then he put both boxes of cereal back in the bag with the sugar on top.

He handed the bag to Jerry. "Do your stuff."

Jerry took it and hurried out the door. Rick and Scotty watched as he went up the street and turned in at the barbershop.

Scotty shook his head. "All I can hear in the earphone is a crackling noise."

"Probably the paper bag," Rick said. "It would crackle as he walks."

They waited impatiently. Presently Jerry emerged without the bag and walked down the street to join them.

"The man in the chair is about done," he reported. "The one you're after is reading a magazine. I said I'd be back in a few minutes, left the bag, and walked out."

"There's the other customer now," Rick said. A man had just emerged from the barbershop and was going up the street in the opposite direction. "Good! They'll talk fast now, because they'll be afraid you'll come back."

"I still hear the crackling noise," Scotty objected. "Someone's talking in the background, but I can't hear it because of the snapping and popping."

Rick swallowed hard. Was something wrong? "Let's see." He borrowed Scotty's earpiece and held it to his own ear. For a second he listened, horrified. It sounded like the Battle of Bull Run!

Barby broke in faintly through the noise. "Rick! I've been listening. What's that noise?"

He explained quickly. "We planted one unit in a box of cereal and Jerry put it in the barbershop."

Barby gasped. "In a box of cereal? What kind?"

"Crummies. Your favorite."

"Oh, Rick!" The girl's voice rose to a wail. "Don't you remember the commercial? Crisp, crackly Crummies! The cereal that sings for your breakfast!"

He got it, then. "Okay, Barby." To the others, he said unhappily, "Well, it was a great idea. Only I forgot one thing. I didn't pick a quiet breakfast food. That noise is the radio settling through the Crummies—the loudest cereal on the market."

The three looked at each other helplessly. There wasn't a thing that could be done about it.

"Noisy breakfast food," Scotty said unbelievingly.

Jerry promised, "I'll never eat it again!" The reporter straightened his coat and tie and gave his hatbrim a jaunty flick. "Well, here I go for my haircut. Might as well do something constructive."

The crackling, popping, snapping continued unabated. "Listen to it," Rick said hopelessly.

Three quarters of an hour later, when Jerry brought the bag back, the Crummies were still crackling happily. Not a word of conversation had been overheard.