“Why, just that,” replied Will, suddenly pointing to the water.
Reube turned and glanced behind him.
“Sharks!” he almost shouted. And there, sure enough, were two black triangular fins cleaving the water where he had just been swimming.
After staring for a moment or two in silence he turned again and met the inscrutable smile on his companion’s face. He held out his hand.
“I understand,” said he. “If I’d got flurried in the water I would have forgotten the lessons you have just given me, and couldn’t have got to shore fast enough.” And in the love and admiration which glowed in his eyes Will read sufficient thanks.
“Now the question is,” mused the latter, “how we’re going to get to the boat.”
“Seems to me we’d better stay right here for the present,” said Reube, drily.
“Yes,” suggested Will; “and when the tide gets a little higher what then?”
“Um!” said Reube, “I was forgetting this is not an honest island. This does certainly look awkward. But what do you suppose those chaps are doing, cruising to and fro right there? Are they just catching herring? Or are they after us?”
“You would know what they were after if you had seen the way they streaked in here when they got a glimpse of you,” responded Will.