The onlookers marvelled, however, to notice that every now and again the pursuing sharks paused, and their heads seemed to be turned towards each other. But only for a moment or two; then they speedily took up the chase again, but only to pause as before.
Nearer and nearer comes Cassia-bud. Greater and greater becomes the suspense of Frank, Fred, and the others.
Will he be saved? Can he be saved? Is it possible he can elude his fiendish pursuers?
But now a new feature is added to the terrible interest of the scene. With a howl of rage and terror, Hurricane Bob comes dashing down the beach, and with a plash springs far into the sea.
Cassia-bud is not twenty yards away when the dog meets him, and tries to seize him by the shoulder. But the boy throws his arms around Bob's great neck, and in half a minute more both are safe and sound on the silvery sand.
And Hurricane Bob shakes gallons of water out of his hide, the spray of which makes a circular rainbow in the sunshine; and Cassia-bud stands there all white teeth, smiles, and dimples, holding up a solitary mackerel.
"On'y one po' fish," he says, "left out ob all dat lubley stickful! On'y one, sah, but I stick to he!"
"But how could you have escaped, my poor boy?" said Fred, who was trembling all over.
"Simply dis," said Cassia-bud coolly, "I feed de sharks all de time I keep swimming, one fish at a time, you see, massa. De shark say all de time day chasee me, 'Go on, little nigger-boy, gib us anoder fish, and we won't eat you.' Soon's all dey fish is done den de sharks gobble de poor boy up plenty quick."
"But weren't you dreadfully frightened, Kashie?"