taken one glance, and then retreated to the cabin.

"These aren't regular man-eating sharks," affirmed Jack, after
Walter, with a blow from a heavy knife, had severed the line, letting
the shark swim away with the hook.

"Ah, but zey are, Senor!" exclaimed the Spanish girl. "You should
hear the stories the natives tell of them."

"But I saw a bigger one not far from the harbor," insisted Jack, "and
it seemed almost tame."

"They are, near harbors," explained Cora. "One of the ladies at the
hotel explained about that. The harbor sharks live on what they get
near shore, stuff thrown overboard from boats, and they grow very
large and lazy. But, farther out to sea, they don't get so much to
eat, and they'll take a hook and bait almost as soon as it's thrown
into the water. The men sometimes go shark-fishing for sport."

"It might be sport, under the right circumstances," said Jack, with a
rueful laugh. "Next time I'll know better, than to, handle a shark
line without gloves."

"So shall I," agreed Cora, as she looked at her skinned knuckles.

They had made a good catch of food fishes and the boys now proceeded
to get these ready for their first meal aboard, the girls agreeing to
cook them, and to set the table.

The meal was rather a merry one, in spite of the grief that hung over