“How tall are you?” asked Grant.
“Six feet two.”
“In your stocking feet?”
“Yes, and my bare feet, too.”
“All right then,” laughed Grant. “Just lie down alongside the shark.”
“Go ahead, String,” urged Fred. “It won’t hurt you.”
“I suppose not,” sighed John and he stretched himself at full length on the beach, the soles of his feet exactly on a line with the tip of the shark’s tail. Grant then marked the spot where his head came and John moved up to this spot and lay down once more. Again Grant indicated the spot by a mark in the sand and the performance was repeated. Four times it was necessary to do this before John had finally covered the entire length of the shark.
“He’s three and one-third times as long as you are, String,” announced Grant, when the measurements were completed.
“That’s twenty feet,” exclaimed George. “Say, that’s a real fish, isn’t it?”
“I should think so,” said Fred. “I’m also glad that he is dead and lying on the beach, for I’m afraid I couldn’t enjoy a swim with that fellow hanging around.”