Sure enough. Sam was still alive and without wasting a moment he struck out boldly for the shore. John was ahead of him, but he was soon overhauled by the powerful negro and side by side the two swimmers plowed through the sea. Behind them the waters were still churned by the struggles of the great shark, but they were rapidly becoming weaker.
“Sam killed the shark,” exclaimed Fred, almost overcome by the suddenness and the unexpectedness of the event.
“It looks so,” agreed Grant. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
“Nor I. Imagine the nerve he had, and that old knife certainly did do the work after all.”
“Well, John owes his life to Sam all right. He surely would have been killed if he had been left out there alone.”
“Not a doubt of it. I don’t see how Sam managed it.”
“We’ll find out in a minute. John must be about exhausted too; Sam is helping him in.”
“Want any help, you two?” called Fred to the two swimmers who were rapidly approaching the shore.
“No, thanks,” said John in reply. “Sam will get us in.”
Grant and Fred leaned far out over the water and extended their hands to the two swimmers who were only a few feet distant now. A moment later and they had drawn John up on the shore, where he lay panting, his strength practically all used up. When they turned to assist Sam, however, they found their negro friend clambering up without the least bit of trouble.