"I wonder if they are hungry and want us to throw some food out to them," said Tubby stolidly, as he gazed at the finny tribes darting here and there in the searchlight's rays.
"Gracious, do you think that the fish have the same appetite as you have?" laughed Merritt.
"Just the same, some of those fellows would taste all right broiled," declared the stout youth, at which there was a general laugh.
After an hour spent in this manner the searchlight was switched off and the panels slid back into place.
"I think we will rise now," said the inventor; "you boys had better hold on, for we may go up pretty quick."
"I hope we do go up," muttered Tubby, rather nervously. The stout youth was not particularly in love with the dark depths in which they were navigating. In fact, all the lads, though they did not admit it, experienced a longing for daylight. It was an awe-inspiring feeling—too awe-inspiring to be comfortable—to be in the depths of the ocean where no keel had ever before plowed.
Mr. Barr remounted to the conning tower. A minute later a renewal of the swishing sound told that the pumps were emptying the tanks at the rate of a thousand gallons a minute. The submarine could be felt to leap upward toward the surface. The boys held on for dear life, exchanging rather alarmed glances.
All at once the pace slackened, and the swishing sound ceased. Mr. Barr had decided that the pace was too swift and had cut off the pumps.
"Well, thank goodness that's over!" gasped Donald. "At the rate we were going up we'd have bounced clean out of the sea."
"I guess we're all right now," remarked Merritt.