At this instant Arthur came dashing through the foam. Raising his heavy handspike in the air, he poised it for a moment so as to take sure aim, and then, with tremendous force, the weapon descended full on the monster’s head. It was a crushing blow. The struggles and writhings ceased, and changed to feeble motions and occasional convulsive vibrations. It resisted no longer. It was powerless.
They dragged it upon the dry ground of the sand-spit, and examined their conquest.
The fish was about five feet long, very broad at the head and shoulders, with a very wide mouth, armed with several rows of saw-like teeth. The nose was rounded, and the jaw was underneath. Its back was a dark slate color, and its belly white.
“It’s what we call a Shovel-mouth Shark,” said Bruce, as he looked at it, and admired its proportions.
“They call it a Dog Fish with us,” said Bart.
“It certainly, is a kind of shark,” said Arthur; “and as that sounds better, we’ll call it by that name. Boys, we’ve fought and killed a shovel-mouth shark! Let the ‘B. O. W. C.’ remember that!”
“We must keep his jaws as a trophy,” said Bruce. “Let’s cut him up and get his jaws. Who’s got a knife?”
“Here,” said Arthur.
Thereupon, with the aid of the knife, the fish was dissected. In the stomach they found a fish quite as remarkable as the one which had swallowed it. It was a sculpin, a fish whose bony covering, and spiny back, and horny head, and wonderful voracity, make it seem like those primeval fish that swam in the waters of the world in an age when all the inhabitants thereof were formed on a similarly monstrous model.
“What a fish,” cried Bart, “to swallow a sculpin! He must be a real shark, after all, for a shark could not beat that. I thought that it might have been by accident only that he met us, but it seems now as though he was ravenous enough to mean mischief. ’Pon my word, if I’d known about that sculpin, I think I would have run away instead of staying to fight.”