Splash!
Out came the Hawks’ spear and fell into the water in a shower of spray, cunningly dislodged by Rob’s cleverness.
Hunt scowled blackly as the two boats drew alongside to disentangle the weapons. He said nothing, however, but glanced back at Harding. The lines were speedily cast apart, and the two boats drew off for a fresh attack. But as they did so, Dale Harding inclined his steering oar and the Hawks’ boat came crashing down upon the Eagles’ craft. Tubby Hopkins’ oar was caught between them and almost snapped.
“Hold up! Hold up!” he shouted angrily. “What are you trying to do?”
“Keep off there, Dale. How can you be so careless?” admonished Hunt, but, nevertheless, a gleam of satisfaction lit up his eyes as he noted that Tubby’s wrist had been twisted, and from the way in which the fat boy held the member it must have been giving him some pain.
“Don’t let accidents like that happen again, Harding,” warned Bartley Holmes sharply, “or I’ll disqualify you.”
“Row right up on it this time; I want to get a good hold,” hailed Rob to Merritt. The coxswain nodded and as the oarsmen gave way he directed the prow of the boat almost directly at the floating “sturgeon.”
“We’ll wait and see what they do,” declared Hunt, addressing his crew. “If they hook fast, I’ll try Rob’s trick and yank his harpoon out. If they don’t, we’ll drive the spear deep and tug theirs out.”
With a sharp “z-i-i-g!” Rob’s harpoon flew from his hand and sank shivering into the soft wood of the “sturgeon.”
“Good strike!” shouted Bartley Holmes from his canoe.