“He’s been chased by a shark,” chuckled Ritter fatly. “Monster fifteen feet long pursued his boat for over a mile out in the Sound. Tried to upset him by bumping its nose against the keel. This is rich! Four rows of teeth sharp as razors.... Gleaming white belly—stomach would have been more refined, seems to me. Remember Dolly Wade, who called ’em blue-_stomach_ crabs. Where was I? Um-um. Oh, yes. Monstrous dorsal fin cutting the water like a knife. Gee-whiz! Bull will kill me dead one of these days. I s’pose he’s training to be an author when he grows up. You can have it, Ted; I’m through.”