Within half an hour the mysterious trail of smoke along the keys was obliterated, although it was not far in advance of the Arrow’s course. Even before the boys had ceased to wonder what it really was, it seemed to vanish from sight as if blown away by a puff of wind, leaving them nothing but their useless speculation.
Presently they became aware of a new motion of the staunch little Arrow. It rode easily upon long, slow, oily swells, rising and sinking at a rate that soon caused the unhappy Seminole to stagger into the little cuddy of a cabin, with a look on his leathery face which prophesied that one Indian was about to be utterly and unrestrainedly seasick!
“Poor Dave!” said Norton, as the victim’s figure slouched dejectedly into a secluded corner. “I can sympathize with him, though I’m lucky enough not to know how he feels!”
“How about you, Billy, you land-lubber?” inquired Alec. “You’re beginning to look a trifle pale around the gills!”
“Shut up!” retorted Billy good-naturedly.
“Nice thing to tell a fellow, I must say!” remarked Chester with a grin.
“It’s enough to make anyone feel seasick, to be told he looks so!” Hugh added laughing. “Give a dog a bad name, and he’ll bite—just to save his reputa——”
“Something else is biting!” yelled Billy, and he sprang forward eagerly.
There was a rattling noise behind them. The captain, abandoning the wheel for a moment, reached forth and grabbed a tarpon rod that was sliding overboard. He thrust it into Alec’s hand.
“Hang on to it,” he gruffly directed. “You’ve got somethin’ big, lad. Mebbe, though, it’s only a shark.”