Lester was making feverish haste in the task of preparing the hook. He sank it deep into the yielding pork, so that the point was at least six inches from any surface.
“Suppose he nibbles it off,” suggested Bill.
“Sharks don’t eat that way,” grinned Lester. “They’re gluttons, and if they bite at all they take everything down–hook, line and sinker.”
“I’m afraid we couldn’t hold him if we did hook him,” said Teddy. “He’d yank us overboard in a minute.”
“I’ll take care of that,” replied Lester, at the same time taking several turns around the mast with the slack of the rope. “He’ll have to pull the mast out of the Ariel to get away.”
By this time all the floating bits of pork had been snapped up by this cormorant of the sea.
“He seems to like our lunch counter,” laughed Teddy.
“We’ve made him a steady customer, I guess,” returned Bill.
“Well, if he likes the samples, we’ll show him some of the real goods,” chimed in Lester, as he prepared to throw the baited hook overboard.
Just then the shark appeared, swimming lazily under the counter of the boat. He was just under 123 the surface, and his glassy, wicked eyes looked full in the faces of the boys as they crowded to the side.