By this time several motor boats were within hailing distance of the boys’ craft.
“What’s the matter? Are you sinking? Do you want any help?” were some of the cries.
“No, we’re just shark-hunting,” replied Jerry.
“It looked, from shore, as though you were trying to keep the boat from sinking,” said a young fellow in the nearest craft. “There was a general alarm, and we all started out for you.”
“Much obliged,” Jerry replied. “But we’re all right.”
The other boats crowded around, the occupants looking in wonder at the big fish, which was being towed close to the surface. The shark was taken safely ashore and Sam, showing his prize under canvas, reaped another harvest, only not so large as in the case of the whale.
“What will you boys do next?” asked Mrs. Hopkins with something like despair in her tones, when she heard of the latest adventure of her son and his chums. “Jerry, I’m afraid to have you go out in that boat.”
“Why, there’s no danger, mother. We can all swim.”
“But suppose a shark, like the one you caught, should come after you?”
“Those aren’t the kind that eat people,” put in Ned, anxious to reassure Mrs. Hopkins.