“Glory, hallelujah!” shouted Teddy.
“That was a dandy throw, old scout!” cried Bill, clapping Lester on the back.
“This is our lucky day,” yelled Fred in great exultation.
Lester flushed with pleasure. He had vindicated his throwing ability, and had proved himself a worthy son of his sea-going forebears.
“Father will be tickled to death when he hears of it,” he remarked, trying to speak coolly, as though harpooning a shark was a daily occurrence with him. “He hates the brutes with all his soul. He was nearly nipped by one while in the water off the Bahamas, and his mates just hauled him on board in time.”
“Well, now that we’ve got him, what are we going to do with him?” asked practical Bill.
130“Could we pull him on board, do you think?” inquired Teddy.
“Not in a hundred years,” replied Lester. “If we had a pulley big enough and rope strong enough, we might hoist him up, but in no other way. I guess the best way to do is to crowd on sail and tow him in to Milton.”
“How much further do we have to go?” asked Fred.
“Oh, it’s a matter of ten or twelve miles yet,” was the answer. “If we were free, we could make it in a little over an hour the way this wind is holding up. But the shark will be a big drag against us, and it will take us at least twice as long. The harpoon sticking out at that angle helps to keep us back.”