“No, but then he may have sounded and it will be about fifteen minutes before he comes up again,” announced Frank. “Was he nearly dead, Bob?”
“Pretty far gone. Some gulls were hovering over him in anticipation, I guess, and that’s a good sign.”
“I wonder what mom will say,” came from Frank, after a pause. “We sort of promised we wouldn’t go whaling again, Andy.”
“I don’t believe she’d care if she knew how it was, but we didn’t have time to tell her. Besides, she doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s golfing. Anyhow, this whale is nearly dead and there can’t be any harm going for a dead one. It was a live one she and dad were thinking about when they warned us.”
“I guess so,” agreed Frank. “Anyhow we’re out now and we might as well keep on. I wonder—”
“There she blows again!” interrupted Bob excitedly, and he stopped rowing long enough to point to a spot in the bay not far distant.
“And she’s spouting blood now!” fairly yelled Andy. “That whale is ours as sure as guns! Have you a line aboard, Bob?”
“Yes, a long anchor rope, strong enough, I guess, for what I need. Let’s put in a little closer. We can keep track of the whale now. Don’t lose sight of it.”
“One of us had better keep on the watch,” proposed Andy.
“What are you trying to do—get out of rowing?” asked his brother with a laugh.