Ballyhoo heard and obeyed. He kept up his strenuous efforts right along, but managed to accompany them with such splashing as he found possible, though doubtless himself quite at a loss to know why he had been told to do this.
Then Oscar awoke to a terrible realization. His magazine had been emptied, for no fresh cartridge slipped into the firing chamber when he threw out the old brass shell, and worked the mechanism for a succession!
He could not lift a hand toward helping his chum! How bitterly did he repent being in such great haste, and taking too big chances. Had he only restrained his eagerness until the shark came closer, he might have easily sent a bullet home that would have finished the ugly monster.
He dropped the gun with a crash on the deck. It seemed to Jack, still working at his camera crank, that Oscar was almost tempted to madly fling himself over into the sea, and try to save poor, exhausted Ballyhoo, or else suffer the consequences.
But a hand seized the boy and held him fast.
“No, no, youngster, none of that foolishness,” cried the skipper. “Look again, and you’ll see that it isn’t so hopeless after all. The Injun is a-going to show us something. I’ve seen it done many a time out there at Ceylon, and along the Australian pearl shore too.”
These encouraging words caused Oscar to notice that one of the natives with whom he and Jack had just been bartering for fresh fruit was urging his canoe along like mad. He aimed to pass the swimmer by, and get between Ballyhoo and the oncoming sea monster.
“Keep cranking, Jack, keep it going, old fellow!” cried Oscar. “This picture will be something worth while! There, see that brown-skinned native go in, will you, just like a plummet? It’s good-bye to Mr. Shark, I guess, Jack—but don’t stop a second, do you hear?”
Indeed, Jack was working steadily, and with a much lighter heart, for something within seemed to tell him that Ballyhoo would after all be spared. He had seen that Indian plunge gracefully into the sea, and vanish from sight; and between his strong, white teeth Jack had also noticed that he held a long-bladed knife.
He knew, or could easily guess at any rate, just to what use the dusky young fellow meant to put that weapon. Coming up underneath the clumsy man-eater, he would, with one mighty stroke, rip him open, and cause his death.