“Oh, we’ll call it off,” said Frank good-naturedly. “We’ll have something to tell the folks when we get back to the cottage; eh?”
“I guess. But are you going right home?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I thought we might row in, and take out our sail boat. I’d like to have another try for that whale. We might get him, and there’s money to be made.”
“Say, do you mean to tell me you’d take another chance with that whale?” demanded Frank, as he prepared to row.
“Of course I would! It would be safe enough in our catboat. He’d never attack that. We could take our rifles along and maybe plug him. Think of hunting for whales! Cricky! That would be sport!” and Andy sighed regretfully. He seemed to have forgotten the narrow escape he had just experienced. “Come on, let’s do it, Frank,” he urged. “Don’t go up to our cottage at all. If you do mother will be sure to see me all wet. Then she’ll want to know how it happened, and the whale will be out of the bag, and we can’t go. Let’s start right out in the Gull as soon as we hit the pier. There won’t be any danger, and we might sight the whale. He must be nearly dead by this time.”
“I wonder if we could find him,” mused Frank.
“Sure!” exclaimed his impulsive brother. “It will be great. There’s some grub aboard the Gull and we can stay out until nearly dark. Mother doesn’t expect us home to dinner, as we said we might go to Seabright. Come on!”
“Well, if you feel able, after—”
“Pshaw! I’m as fit as a fiddle. Let’s hit it up, and get to the dock as soon as we can. Think of landing a whale!”