The great, cold-blooded, insatiable fish is poised for the final spring. A single second now, and——
Instead of falling upon its victim, the huge brute lashed the water into foam, and swam round and round in a circle. What had really happened Joe knew not. He no longer swam shorewards, but, half stupefied, watched the "flurries" of the frenzied fish as it lashed the water in rage or pain.
Then he heard a great splashing shorewards, and a voice shouting encouraging words. Turning in that direction, the boy beheld, with unutterable joy, Harry, rifle in hand, rushing through the water to him. In a few seconds the stockman is abreast Joe, the water being only up to his arm-pits. Pointing the rifle at the fish, which was circling in blind fashion, but a few yards off, the rifleman—for it was he, under God, who worked the miracle—drove a bullet through the shark's brain.
"My word! 'twas a touch-and-go, old feller!" exclaimed the man, as he put an arm round the boy—who had, in a sense, collapsed—and drew him to the shore. "There now, Joey, me brave boy. Y're all right, ain't ye? Y're not the chap ter faint, I know. Here's the others," as the rest dashed up, breathless; the Irish boy fairly crying with excitement.
They could do nothing for a while but look at Joe as he sat leaning against a mangrove—where Harry had placed him—making a brave but weak effort to smile. The reaction had set in, and the boy felt it was only by the most resolute exercise of his will that he kept from swooning.
Tom, who was blowing like the proverbial grampus, stuttered at last: "Let's m-make tr-racks h-home, b-boys. I-I'd rather be b-b-bailed up by a thousand 'r-rangers, than w-w-w-one of th-hose sea-devils. Oh! the sight of the m-monster as he r-rose to make a d-dive at p-poor Joe! Y-yes, let's c-clear."
"Clear, be hanged! What are you drivelling about, you jolly idiot?" It was just the tonic Joe needed. "We're not goin' to let a thing like this spoil our sport, not by a long shot. I'm all right. Was a bit knocked out for a few minutes, I will confess. Tell you what, boys; I'll never be nearer death till my last moment comes. That I am alive is due, first to God, an' then to ole Harry, here. 'Twas a great shot, that first one of yours. 'Nother second later an' 'twould have been too late. Ugh! don't believe I'll ever get the green glitter of the thing's eyes outer my mind. Tell you what, I'll jolly well punch the first cove that hints at goin' home. I vote we go back an' scale an' gut the jolly fish."
"Bedad, thin, it's a plucky wan y'are, Joe, me bhoy! Y're th' mahn f'r me money ivry toime. But, ye'll not do a sthroke iv wark till yees have a feed. Faith, Oi'll do a sthreak an' get th' billy boilin' f'r a pipin' hot cup o' tay. It's what we all want; Joe in particular." Suiting his action to the word, the cook strode off in quick time to prepare the lunch.
Meanwhile the dead shark had drifted into the shallows until it stranded on the beach. The party now made a closer examination of the brute. The first shot, fired from the bank as the creature raised itself, had caught it in the throat; the second passed through the eye to the brain.
"Why, it's a tiger-shark!" exclaimed Harry; "twelve foot if he's an inch. Thought 'twas a blue-nose at fust; they're bad enough, but this joker's the worst kind that swims the sea. My word, Joe, it'd been all U P if this chap'd once got 'is teeth intil yer."