"No, that's the end," said Bob, who had heard his father tell of whaling voyages. "The whale is dead, and he's gone to the bottom."
"Then we can't get it," came regretfully from Andy.
"Oh, yes we can," declared Bob.
"How?" Frank wanted to know.
"Why, after a whale dies, and sinks, gases very soon begin to form inside it. This swells it up like a balloon, and it comes to the top again. Then we can get it."
"How long will it take?" asked Andy, with an anxious look at the sun, for it was getting late.
"Oh, maybe an hour, perhaps longer," replied Bob. "We will just have to hang around here until it comes up."
"I hope our folks don't get worried about us," remarked Frank, who was a little uneasy about having gone off as they had so suddenly. "We left Paul at the clubhouse all alone, too."
"Oh, well, he won't mind. There's lots going on, and we'll soon be back—if we have luck," commented Andy.
"Queer about that Paul," spoke Bob. "You haven't seen anything more of that strange man; have you?"