“How do they ever do it?” marveled Clara.
“In the blood I suppose,” replied Joe. “Their 158 folks throw them into the water when they’re babies, and like puppies, they have to swim or drown.”
“They’re more at home in the water than they are on land,” remarked Jim. “Those fellows will swim out in the ocean and stay there all day long.”
“I should think they’d be afraid of sharks,” remarked Mabel, with a shudder, as she thought of the recent incident in which that hideous brute had figured.
“Sharks are easy meat for them,” replied Jim. “You ought to pity the sharks instead of wasting it on these fellows. Give them a knife, and the shark hasn’t a Chinaman’s chance.”
“Not even a knife,” chimed in Joe. “A stick sharpened at both ends is enough.”
“A stick?” exclaimed Mabel, wonderingly.
“Sure thing,” replied Joe. “They simply wait until the shark turns over to grab them and then thrust it right into the open jaws. You’ve no idea how effective that can be.”
“It’s a case of misplaced confidence,” laughed Jim. “The poor trustful shark lets his jaws come together with a snap, or rather he thinks he does, and instead of a nice juicy human, those guileless jaws of his close on the two ends of the pointed stick and stay there. He can’t close his mouth and he drowns.” 159
“Poor thing,” murmured Clara involuntarily, while the boys put up a shout. “I don’t care,” she added, flushing. “I’m always sorry for the underdog——”