“Paul—­the spear!  Quick!  It’s a whale!”

I ran as swiftly as I could to the shore and returned with our spears, but when I reached Harry he greeted me with an oath of disappointment and the information that the “whale” had disappeared.  He was greatly excited.

“I tell you he was twenty feet long!  A big black devil, with a head like a cow.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t like a pig?” I asked skeptically.

Harry looked at me.

“I have drunk nothing but water for a month,” he said dryly.  “It was a fish, and some fish.”

“Well, there’s probably more like him,” I observed.  “But they can wait.  Come on and get some sleep, and then—­we’ll see.”

Some hours afterward, having filled ourselves with sleep and food (I had decided, after mature deliberation, not to change my hotel), we started out, armed with our spears.  Desiree accompanied us.  Harry told her bluntly that she would be in the way, but she refused to stay behind.

We turned upstream, thinking our chances better in that direction than toward the swifter current, and were surprised to find that the cavern was much larger than any we had before seen.  In something over a mile we had not yet reached the farther wall, for we walked at a brisk pace for a quarter of an hour or more.

At this point the stream was considerably wider than it was below, and there was very little current.  Desiree stood on the bank while Harry and I waded out above our waists.

There was a long and weary wait before anything occurred.  The water was cold, and my limbs became stiff and numb; I called to Harry that it was useless to wait longer, and was turning toward the shore when there was a sudden commotion in the water not far from where he stood.

I turned and saw Harry plunge forward with his spear.

“I’ve got him!” he yelled.  “Come on!”

I went.  But I soon saw that Harry didn’t have him.  He had Harry.  They were all of ten yards away from me, and by the time I reached the spot there was nothing to be seen but flying water thrashed into foam and fury.

I caught a glimpse of Harry being jerked through the air; he was holding on for dear life with both hands to the shaft of his spear.  The water was over my head there; I was swimming with all the strength I had.

“I’ve got him—­through the belly,” Harry gasped as I fought my way through the spray to his side.  “His head!  Find his head!”

I finally succeeded in getting my hand on Harry’s spear-shaft near where it entered the body of the fish; but the next instant it was jerked from me, dragging me beneath the surface.  I came up puffing and made another try, but missed it by several feet.

Harry kept shouting:  “His head!  Get him in the head!”

For that I was saving my spear.  But I could make nothing of either head or tail as the immense fish leaped furiously about in the water, first this way, then that.