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 something in an urgent voice. The noise buzzed in his waterlogged ears.

“Hey, hello! What is it?” he cried, giving his head a shake and putting on his hat.

“School of sharks!” shouted Greer, coming toward his leader at a foamy speed.

“School of sharks!” echoed Madden with a sharp thrill. “Where? Which way?”

“Must be toward the dock, sir!” panted Greer driving up.

“Where's Caradoc?”

“Yonder.” He pointed toward a distant twinkle in the water.

“We must get together—yell to him, warn him!”

The two lads began a strenuous chorus that further used up their exhausted strength. Caradoc responded by a wave of his hand. Then when he understood “sharks” he gathered speed in their direction.

By this time the dock seemed as far away as the schooner, and was in reality probably farther. On the wall of the dock, they could see Hogan's microscopic figure apparently having a fit, against the coppery sky. No doubt from his