“It’s bin’ eatin’ beans and hay!” shouted Jupe, “but it’s still hungry, Great Gumptions to Goodness!”
Crash!
The runaway submarine model struck the rowboat full in the side. Jupe, who had risen to his feet, was knocked overboard in a flash by the impact of the blow. But the White Shark, Jr., never stopped going. Shoving the boat before it, it sped on toward the opposite shore.
Jupe came to the surface—fortunately he could swim—and grasped the side of the boat. It was the opposite side to the one the model diving boat had struck, and Jupe could find no explanation for the fact that his craft was moving.
“Clar’ ter goodness!” he yelled, “dat shark mus’ be towin’ me to shore!”
But he clung on till he felt his feet touch ground, and then, yelling for help at the top of his voice, he dashed off into the bushes in an effort to get as far from the shark-haunted lake as possible. It was not until half an hour later that he ventured back, hearing voices near where he had come ashore.
They were those of Mr. Chadwick and his companions. Although the model was almost wrecked in the bow, they could not find words to blame Jupe, so elated were they over the unqualified success the trial had proved. The model was placed in the boat and rowed back to its starting point.
“I can patch it up so that we can use it again,” declared Jack as they carried it ashore and made an examination.
“Marse Chadwick,” begged Jupe, “you gib me a lil’ medicine for my insides. I declar’ I’se plum scared inter a stomach-ache by dat dar shark.”
“I’ve a good mind to give you a good scolding, you rascal,” laughed Mr. Chadwick, “and as for the sort of medicine you want, you won’t get any from me.”