The boys hurried back to the dock and got into the boat, and started down the coast. As they neared a little cove, on which was located another summer colony, they could see a big crowd collected.
“That’s where it is,” Sam remarked. “Put in there.”
When they landed they saw a big shapeless body stranded on the beach. It resembled an immense log of black wood.
“There’s my whale!” cried Sam, proudly.
The creature looked vastly different from the monster that had towed the boys in their boat out to sea. They went closer to the crowd, which surrounded the bulk of flesh and bone. As they made their way through the fringe of people they heard some one saying:
“Now you’ve all got to get away. This is my whale. I discovered it. I’m going to put a tent over it and charge twenty-five cents admission. Stand back, I say!”
Something about the tones struck the boys as being familiar. They went closer.
“Here, no more can come here!” exclaimed a youth, who began shoving the motor boys back. “This is my whale.”
There, confronting our three heroes, was Noddy Nixon.