"I've not the least idea," remarked Tubby placidly, "but I rather think it must be a whale."
"Whale nothing!" exclaimed Merritt scornfully and with superior wisdom. "Whales sound, don't they?"
"Well, there's not been a sound out of this one so far," truthfully observed Hiram.
"What kind of a sound do they make, corporal?"
"Oh, you chump," responded Merritt good-naturedly, "you've lived by the sea all your life, and you don't know how a whale sounds. Sound means when a whale blows, spouts, sends up a big fountain of water."
"Oh, I see," responded Hiram, much enlightened. "But see here, Merritt, whatever we are fast to is beginning to pick up speed pretty rapidly. Don't you think we'd better cut the line or try to haul in?"
"Haul in! Not much!" exclaimed Tubby indignantly. "We'll just hang on till we tire him out, that's what we'll do, and then haul in."
"But we're getting a good way out from shore," objected Hiram, who, however much at home he was at the key of a wireless apparatus, had no great relish for blue water in a small motor boat.
"Don't you worry, sonny," put in Merritt patronizingly. "We'll be all right. My, that was a plunge!"
As he spoke the bow of the Flying Fish dipped till she shipped a few gallons of green water.