"Then what is it?"
"It's a whale, if I'm any judge. A whale, and a big one, too!"
"Dead?"
"I guess so. No—by Jupiter! It's alive, Andy, and it's coming this way!"
"Cracky! If we only had a harpoon or a bomb gun now, that would be the end of Mr. Whale. Let's row out and meet him!"
"Say, are you crazy?" demanded Frank, with some heat.
"Crazy? No; why?"
"Wanting to tackle a whale in these boats! We'd be swamped in a minute! We'd better pull out to one side. Most likely the whale will keep on a straight course, though he'll be stranded if he goes much farther in. The tide's out, and it's shallow here. Pull to one side, Andy—the race is off. Pull out, I tell you!" and Frank swung his skiff around with sudden energy.
"I am not! I'm going to get a nearer view of the whale!" cried Andy. "Maybe he's hurt, or perhaps there's a harpoon with a line fast to it in him. We might get hold of it and—"
"Yes, and go to kingdom come. Nixy! Get out of the way while you've got time. Jinks! He's coming on faster than ever!"