“That’s reasonable,” assented Reube, practicing diligently. In a few minutes he had made a marvelous advance in his method. Will sometimes swam beside him, sometimes stood on the bar and criticised.
All at once, in the midst of an encouraging speech he clapped his hands to his heart with a cry of pain, sank upon the sand, and called out sharply:
Reube remembered his lessons even in his anxiety, and with long, powerful strokes made his way swiftly to Will’s side. As he landed Will straightened himself up with a grave smile, and held one his hand to draw Reube back from the water’s edge.
“But what was the matter?” queried Reube, in impatient astonishment.
“Why, just that,” replied Will, suddenly pointing to the water.
“_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.
“I don’t see what we’re going to do about it,” said Reube presently, after they had gazed at their dreadful besiegers in gloomy silence. “But there’s something in the way of a weapon which we might as well secure anyway.” And running to the other side of the sand spit he snatched up a broken picket which had been left there by the previous ebb. “It’s better than nothing,” he insisted.