the
harpoon-gun and was holding poised the long lance.

This was hunting whales with a vengeance!

The monster had not sounded but was only gathering fury, and in a few
seconds he came to the surface with a rush, charging straight for the
boat.

"Stand by to pull," said Hank quietly.

The two forward oars, watching, dipped lightly and moved the boat a yard
or two, then waited, their oars in the water and arms extended for the
stroke. Colin would have given millions, if he had possessed them, to
pull his oar, to do something to get away from the leviathan charging
like an avenging fury for the little boat. But Hank stood motionless.
Another second and Colin could almost feel the devil-whale plunging
through the frail craft, when Scotty suddenly yelled,

"Pull!"

As Scotty yelled, Colin vaguely--for everything seemed reeling about
him--saw Hank lunge with the long steel lance. The suction half whirled
the boat round, but the whale sounded a little, coming up to the surface
forty feet away and spouting hollowly. Even to the boy's untrained ear
there was a difference, and when he noticed that blood was mixed with
the vapor thrown out from the blowhole, his hope revived. The second
rush of the whale was easily avoided, and Hank thrust in the lance
again. Then, for the first time, the old whaler permitted himself to
smile, a long, slow smile.

"That's the way it used to be done in the old days!" he said, with just
a shade of triumph in his voice. "Pull away a little, boys, to be clear
of the flurry. Have you a buoy ready, Scotty?"

The sailor nodded.

"There won't be much of a flurry, Hank," he said; "you got the lungs
with the lance both times."

The old whaler looked at Colin, who was a little white about the lips.

"Scared you, I reckon?" he said. "You don't need to feel bad over that.
Any one's got a right to be scared when a whale's chargin' the boat.
I've been whalin' for nigh on forty-five years an' that's only the
second devil-whale I've ever killed with a hand-lance. He pretty near
caught us with his flukes that first time, too!"

"Guess that's the end of him," said Scotty, as the big animal beat the
air with his tail, the slap of the huge flukes throwing up a fountain of
spray.

"That's the end," agreed Hank.

Almost with the word the great gray whale turned, one fin looming above
the water as he did so, and sank heavily to the bottom, the buoy which
had been attached to the harpoon-line by Scott