Frenchy gave him a hand on one side and Ikey on the other; between them
the trio hauled a ten-pound bass over the gunwale. Torry was dancing
around in glee and shouting at the top of his voice.

"Hush!" commanded Whistler. "You'll scare even the sharks and dogfish
away."

"Or you'll dance through the rotten old bottom boards of the boat and
we'll have to walk ashore," added Frenchy.

But it was a great catch, and the others could feel nothing but envy of
Torry's success. He had set a pace that none of them could equal; for
after that there did not seem to be another bass of even two pounds'
weight in the whole ocean.

"Hey, fellows!" ejaculated Ikey suddenly. "Who's this coming?"

"Somebody walking on the water, is it?" chuckled Frenchy.

"Aw, you needn't be correcting my English," responded Ikey. "There are
no medals on you for being a purist."

"Wow, wow!" yelled Torry. "Listen to him sling language."

"Hold on, fellows," Whistler said, diving for the glass he never went
to sea without. "That's no smack."

They all had turned to look at the approaching craft which Ikey had
first sighted. It was a power boat and was running parallel with the