“How do you suppose he got here?” exclaimed John, who was examining with personal interest the mouth of the giant fish. Row after row of great white teeth, sharp as knives, were seen in the huge jaw. John shuddered as he remembered how nearly he had come to losing his life to those wicked weapons.
“It simply was washed up here by the waves,” said Grant. “It was thrashing around out there at a great rate after Sam and String had come ashore yesterday. I suppose it finally died and drifted in.”
“Well, I think Sam was wonderful to dispose of that fellow the way he did,” exclaimed George. “How did you do it, Sam?”
“With mah ol’ knife.”
“You thought he bit the shark to death, I suppose, Pop,” laughed Fred.
“Hot air!” was George’s only reply to his remark. Just what he meant by such a slang expression he probably knew best of all.
“Let’s measure the shark,” exclaimed Grant. “I’d like to settle the dispute once and for all and then when we go home and tell the story, people will have to believe us for we’ll all be witnesses.”
“How are you going to measure?” inquired Fred. “String’s shoe is up in the cave, you know.”
“We’ll use String himself instead of his shoe,” suggested Grant.
“What do you all take me for?” demanded John. “I’m no tape measure.”