“Watch it,” said Don, excitedly. “It will come out and float directly.”
Don’s prophecy did not come to pass, for as they watched, they saw about a foot of the boathook shaft stand sloping out of the water, and go here and there in a curious manner.
“Let’s row after it,” suggested Don.
“Wouldn’t be no good, Mas’ Don; and we’ve got nothing to fight him with but pistols. Let him be, and the thing will soon wriggle out.”
Jem proved as far wrong as his companion, for, after a time, as they watched and saw the end of the shaft bob here and there; it suddenly disappeared about fifty yards away.
“Why, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, laughing, “it’s like fishing; and after biting ever so long, the float’s gone right under water. Now’s your time. Strike!”
“And we’ve no line,” said Don, who was beginning to get rid of his nervous sensation.
“No, we haven’t a line,” said Jem. “Keep your eye on the place where he went down; we mustn’t lose that hitcher. Say, it won’t do to try and swim ashore. That’s a shark, that is, and a big one, too. Did he hurt you?”
“Not much. It was like a tremendous blow with somebody’s fist. Look!”
“Told you so!” cried Jem. “Here he comes with a rush to give us back the boathook.”