Once Madden looked at the dock. Hogan on the rim of the red flaring wall
was flinging out all kinds of despairing gestures.
By this time Caradoc was in hailing distance.
"Did you say sharks?" he called out in a dull voice.
"Yes, sharks!"
"Where a way?"
"Don't know!"
At that moment a trickling thrill went through the American. A long dark
motionless shadow lay in the water straight in front of him. He stopped
swimming suddenly.
"Stop, Greer! Straight ahead!" he warned in a low tone, easing himself
carefully up on his buoy for a better look.
By this time the swimmers were nearly together and all three stared
ahead with painful intentness.
"That dark thing?" inquired Greer in an undertone,
"Yes, we ought to have a knife apiece."
"I never saw a shark lying still," panted Caradoc straining his eyes.
"Say, that's a little streak of seaweed," decided Farnol, beginning to
move toward it.
Then all three perceived it was merely seaweed. The shark-like illusion
disappeared completely the moment someone doubted it.
"Who cried out sharks anyway?" demanded Smith of Madden.
"Greer there warned me--he yelled 'school of sharks.'"
"Where did you see them?" inquired Caradoc of Farnol.
"You shouted school of sharks to me yourself," defended Greer.
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