than to see poor Striker and the boy sent to Davy Jones' locker," he muttered.
And now let us find out what really had become of Larry and his friend. As has been told, the hands of both went up to the gunwale of the yawl simultaneously; then came the shock and the flying splinters, and Larry felt himself drawn under, his feet caught in the curl of something cold and slippery.
"A shark—I am lost!" was his agonizing thought, and he bumped up against Striker. The tail of the sawfish slapped first one and then the other, and it was a fortunate thing that the creature had its saw fast in the boat, otherwise one of them might have been killed.
Larry was now out of breath, yet he kept his mouth closed, knowing that if he swallowed any of the ocean's brine his senses would surely forsake him and he would be drowned. He felt for Striker, who also felt for the lad, and each clutched the other by the arm.
It was at this juncture that Captain Ponsberry came on the scene with the harpoon, and the sawfish was struck just as Larry and Striker managed to get their feet against the yawl's bottom and send them-
