crimson circle on the water to mark where the terrible, man-killing
shark had vanished with his prey. Attracted, no doubt, by the
mysterious sense that tells these sea tigers where they can snap up a
meal, other dark fins now began to cut through the water in all
directions.

The second man, almost overcome by the horror of his companion's fate,
however, had presence of mind enough to grasp a rope's end. In a few
seconds he had been hauled to the vessel's side and several of the
crew were preparing to hoist him on board when two of the monsters
made a simultaneous rush at him, Frank's revolver cracked at the same
instant and the sea tigers, with savage snaps of their jaws, which,
however, fell short of their intended prey, rolled over and vanished.

The rescued man when hauled on deck was a pitiable object. But even in
his half famished condition and with the great beard that he wore
there was something very familiar--strangely so--about him to the
boys. Frank was the first to solve the mystery.

"Ben Stubbs," he exclaimed.

"Who's that that called Ben Stubbs," exclaimed the man over whom a
dozen sailors and the doctor had been bending.

"It's me," shouted Frank, regardless of grammar, "Frank Chester."

The amazement on the face of the old salt who had accompanied the boys
in Africa and the Everglades and shared their perils in the Sargasso
Sea, was comical to behold.