“Goodness gracious!” cried Euphemia, her face pale as the beach.  “Isn’t it horrible?  We’ve got one!”

“Horrible!” I cried.  “Didn’t you want to get one?” and seizing the axe, which lay near by, I drove the stake deep down into the sand.  “Now it will hold him!” I cried.  “He can’t pull that out!”

“But how are we to pull him in?” exclaimed Euphemia.  “This line is as tight as a guitar-string.”

This was true.  I took hold of the rope, but could make no impression on it.  Suddenly it slackened in my hand.

“Hurrah!” I cried, “we may have him yet!  But we must play him.”

“Play him!” exclaimed Euphemia.  “You can never play a huge creature like that.  Let me go and call some of the others to help.”

“No, no!” I said.  “Perhaps we can do it all by ourselves.  Wind the line quickly around the top of the stake as I pull it in.”

Euphemia knelt down and rapidly wound several yards of the slack cord around the stake.  In a few moments it tightened again, jerking itself out of my hand.

“There, now!” said Euphemia.  “He is off again!  You can never haul him in, now.”

“Just wait,” I said.  “When he finds that he cannot break away he rushes toward shore, trying to bite the line above the chain.  Then I must haul it in and you must wind it up.  If you and I and the shark continue to act in this way, perhaps, after a time, we may get him into shallow water.  But don’t scream or shout.  I don’t want the others to know anything about it.”

Sure enough, in a minute or two the line slackened again, when it was rapidly drawn in and wound around the stake.

“There he is!” exclaimed Euphemia.  “I can see him just under the water, out there.”

The dark form of the shark, appearing at first like the shadow of a little cloud, could be seen near the surface, about fifteen yards away.  Then his back fin rose, his tail splashed violently for an instant, and he disappeared.  Again the line was loosened, and again the slack was hauled in and wound up.  This was repeated, I don’t know how many times, when suddenly the shark in his desperation rushed into shallow water and grounded himself.  He would have floundered off in a few moments, however, had we not quickly tightened the line.  Now we could see him plainly.  He was eight or nine feet long and struggled violently, exciting Euphemia so much that it was only by clapping her hand over her mouth that she prevented herself from screaming.  I would have pulled the shark farther in shore, but this was impossible, and it was needless to expect him to move himself into shallower water.  So, quickly rolling up my trousers, I seized the axe and waded in toward the floundering creature.

“You needn’t be afraid to go right up to him,” said Euphemia.  “So long as he don’t turn over on his back he can’t bite you.”

I had heard this bit of natural history before, but, nevertheless, I went no nearer to the shark than was necessary in order to whack him over the head with the axe.  This I did several times, with such effect that he soon became a dead shark.