“I wish it would hurry up about it then,” grumbled Frank. “I don’t want to stay out here all night.”
Suddenly, as he spoke there was a flurry of water about the dying monster of the deep.
“Look out!” yelled Andy. “It’s coming for us.”
“Back water!” shouted Bob.
They bent to the oars with a will, Andy taking up his discarded ones. But they need not have been alarmed. It was the last move the whale was destined to make. Rearing itself partly up out of the water the monster suddenly sank, making such a commotion that the boat of the boys was tossed about like a chip in the surf.
“He’s sounded again!” shouted Andy.
“No, that’s the end,” said Bob, who had heard his father tell of whaling voyages. “The whale is dead, and he’s gone to the bottom.”
“Then we can’t get it,” came regretfully from Andy.
“Oh, yes we can,” declared Bob.
“How?” Frank wanted to know.