glanced back over one shoulder, he seemed to glimpse under the water not a dozen yards away, a great gray-blue shape that struck terror to his soul. He splashed frantically and shouted hoarsely, and the thing slid away from his vision. But he knew it was there, lurking, waiting for a chance, and the remnants of his courage began to drain. Six strokes was all he dared to take now, and even those were halting and full of dread.

He had lost all track by this time of Cavvy; he did not even know how near or far he was himself from shore. Presently he saw the creature again, nearer this time. As he strove to shout his voice seemed a mere croak; there was scarcely strength in his numbed arms to lash the water.... A sudden splash near him brought a strangled sob to his lips; the touch of something against his body made him cringe.

“All right, Steve,” said a voice in his ear. “Just let yourself go.”

With a long-drawn, sobbing sigh, the boy’s weary muscles relaxed and his eyes closed. He was vaguely conscious of being propelled swiftly through the water, of the clamor of shrill voices, of a constant, irregular splashing all around him. Presently his dragging feet touched bottom and he made an instinctive effort to stand erect. But now there was a muscular arm about him which not only held him up but urged him forward. Finally he felt himself lowered gently to the sand and a moment later he opened his eyes.

Stripped to the waist and dripping wet, Mr. Wendell was bending over him. As he met Steve’s glance, his lips curved in a curious smile that somehow thrilled the boy. There was pride in it, tribute, appreciation, but when the man spoke his voice was low and matter-of-fact.

“Better lie still for a minute or so,” he said quietly. “You’re about all in.”

Steve nodded and his glance wandered over the beach. It was thronged with boys, all talking excitedly and many of them still hurling missiles at the water. A sudden thought struck him.

“Did Cavvy—” he began, raising his eyes. And then he stopped.

The scoutmaster had moved aside; it was Cavanaugh who stood beside him holding some garments in his hands. His face was drawn and haggard, and in his eyes was a look which neither Haddon nor anyone else had ever seen there.

“Steve!” he said at length, in a low, uneven voice. “I—I—” He paused, his lips trembling. Then his jaw squared. “I’m a beast, Steve, a perfect beast!” he went on rapidly. “I’ve been a beast from—from the very first. You’re— When I think of what a chum you might have been, and I was fool enough— You’ll never want to—to have anything to do with me again, but I had to tell you—”

“Don’t!” Haddon sat up abruptly. His physical weariness had suddenly left him. All the regret and longing and mental soreness of the afternoon had vanished. “Why can’t we—we just forget all that and—”

He paused. A sudden flash like sunlight swept into Cavvy’s face, wiping away the haggard lines. His eyes met Haddon’s longingly, incredulously.

“You don’t mean you’d ever—”

Steve laughed happily.

“Why not?” he asked.

Cavanaugh made no answer in words, but impulsively his hand went out and caught Steve’s. To the onlooker it seemed as if he were merely helping the other fellow to his feet, but Haddon knew there was a good deal more than that in the action. Cavvy’s grip, and the look in his eyes were both more eloquent than speech. Then Mr. Wendell appeared beside them, his face puzzled and a little stern.

“Feeling all right again?” he asked Haddon. “That’s fine. Well, I guess we’d better get back to camp; there seems to be nothing more doing here.” He turned abruptly to Cavanaugh. “Perhaps you can explain this business,” he said rather curtly. “I can’t seem to make head or tail out of what Hinckley and McBride have to say. How did you come to go in over here when there’s a notice up forbidding it for the present?”

CHAPTER IV
THE MAN IN THE DORY

Cavvy hesitated for an instant, a slow flush creeping up into his face. Then his eyes met Haddon’s and his lips tightened.

“It was my fault, sir,” he said quickly. “The other fellows aren’t to blame; they’d never have gone in but for me. You see, I didn’t believe Bu—er—Taggart really saw a shark at all, and I wanted to get one more decent swim before I saw the notice.”

The scoutmaster’s face cleared. “Oh, then you didn’t see the notice,” he said, turning toward the camp. “That makes a difference, though I still don’t understand—”

“I didn’t see it,” interrupted Cavvy, “but one of the fellows told us about it. I hadn’t any excuse at all. I was just sore and—”

The words died away as the two moved off together, leaving Steve to hurry through his dressing alone. He got into his clothes swiftly, a little anxious to know what penalty was being meted out to Cavvy, but in his heart there was nothing but gladness at the realization that he hadn’t been mistaken in his friend after all.

He was given little time to think of this or to speculate on the possibilities that Cavvy’s changed attitude opened up before him. He had not even got his shoes on before he was surrounded by a throng of boys, all jabbering excitedly and full of eager inquiries as to how near the shark had come, what it looked like, how he felt, and a thousand other questions.

Haddon answered them all good naturedly, turning aside with a shrug and a laugh the words of praise and admiration which followed. As soon as he was dressed he headed for the camp, to find Cavanaugh standing in front of their tent.

“Well?” he questioned eagerly as he came up. “How about it? What did he give you?”

Cavvy grinned.

“Not as much as I expected,” he said. “He was pretty decent, considering. I’ve got to stick around the camp limits for a week, that’s all. He didn’t even cut out my swimming. Guess he thought going into the cove wouldn’t be any too much of a treat.”

He laughed; then his face grew suddenly serious. “I never even thanked you, old man,” he said in a low tone, “or said a word about the corking way you—you went in after me, and—”

“Don’t do it,” interrupted Haddon, smiling a little. “You’d have done the same for me, and more. Let’s cross it off the books and not think about it again. There’s one thing I’d like awfully to know,” he want on quickly. “Was it really a man-eater, or just a big dog fish? How close did he get to you, anyhow? How much of him did you see?”

“How close?” repeated Cavvy slowly. “I don’t know exactly. It must have come within twenty-five feet, though. It was a sort of blue-gray—different from a dog fish. And big! Man!” His eyes widened and he shuddered a little. “Of course I was scared,” he confessed, “and maybe the reflection on the water sort of magnified it, but—”

“I don’t know about that,” put in Haddon as he paused. “It looked like a whale of a thing to me. Say, Harry,” he called, to Ritter who was loitering nearby, “how much did you and Champ see of the brute?”

But it appeared that they had only seen the fin, and no one else had glimpsed of the creature. Next morning, however, the matter was settled beyond a doubt, and very satisfactorily. About an hour after breakfast Shrimp Willett came tearing into camp with the news that some fishermen whose nets were out about a mile from shore were having trouble.

“They’re having