“The sharks have gone,” exclaimed John suddenly.
“Sure enough,” said George. “I had forgotten all about them.”
“There they are out there,” said Grant indicating a spot some fifty yards astern of the boat. “They’re not alone, either.”
Ten or a dozen great fins could be seen weaving in and out in the place Grant had indicated.
“It must be shallow in here,” remarked Fred. “That’s probably why they don’t come in any closer. Look out for going aground, Sam.”
“Not de leas’ dangah of dat,” replied Sam confidently and whether he knew what he was talking about or not, the fact remains that a few moments later the bow of the boat grounded softly on the white sand, only a few feet from the shore.
“First ashore,” cried George leaping overboard and dashing up on the beach.
“Hey, there! Wait a minute,” shouted Grant. “We’ve got to pull this boat up and we’ll need everyone’s help.”
“We’d better take the provisions out,” said Fred a moment later when they had hauled the boat some distance up on the shore.
“What for?” demanded George who was always opposed to doing any more work than was absolutely necessary.