Surprise at the bold claim of their rivals held the three boys almost spellbound for a moment. The possibility that someone should seek to get possession of the whale they had brought ashore after such labor, and almost as soon as they landed, had never occurred to them. Yet the fishermen seemed determined, for one of them began casting off Bob’s anchor line, and several more of the burly chaps, in their long rubber boots, leaped overboard from the boat, and waded ashore.

“What had we better do?” asked Andy of his brother. “Are you going to let them take our whale?”

“Not much!” exclaimed Frank, with a determined tightening of his lips. “I’m going to fight every inch. They shan’t take it away.”

“Let’s appeal to the crowd,” suggested Andy. “Tell ’em just how we found the whale, and they won’t let these men take it away from us.”

Frank looked doubtful as to the wisdom of that course. Meanwhile the men were busily preparing to tow the whale away out to sea in their powerful motor boat.

“If my father was only here,” began Bob, “he would know what to do, and what our rights were. There are certain laws about whales and things found at sea, and he’d make these fellows skip out if they were in the wrong.”

“Of course they’re in the wrong!” cried Andy. “Didn’t we see the whale first, and didn’t we tow it home?”

“But they say they harpooned it,” said Bob.

“Yes, and there was only one iron in it, Andy, when it broke your boat,” added Frank. “Now there are two harpoons in the back. One might be theirs. I’m going to notify Justice Fanchard and see what he says.”

“Lively now, men!” called Bill, as Frank started off.

There was another movement on the outskirts of the throng, and someone pushed his way in.

“It’s dad!” cried Bob. “Hey, dad!” he shouted. “These men are going to take our whale! We just towed it in, Frank and Andy Racer and me! Can these men take it?”

“Of course we can, kid!” cried one of the fishermen. “Get out of the way, if you don’t want to be knocked down.”

“Oh, it’s you, is it, Jack Kett!” exclaimed Captain Trent. “And Bill Lowden and his crowd. Well, you fellows would take anything, whether it was yours or not. Now jest hold on a bit. Luff up and let’s see where we’re at. Maybe you’re on the wrong course and need new clearance papers. Avast there, and let me know the particulars.”

“There ain’t any particulars except that we harpooned this whale, and it’s ours,” growled Bill Lowden. “You needn’t be putting your oar in, Cap’n Trent. We know our rights. There’s our iron, and it’s got the name of our boat branded in it—the Scud—you can see if you light a match,” for it was now dark.

“Hum! When did you strike it?” asked the captain, amid a silence, for, as an old whaling master and one of the most influential residents of Harbor View, the captain was universally respected.

“We were going along just outside the Shark’s Teeth reef day ’fore yesterday,” spoke Jack Kett, “when our lookout spied the whale. We keep a couple of irons aboard for sharks, dogfish and the like, and it didn’t take long to sink one in this critter. Then he sounded and we couldn’t pick him up again. We’ve been looking for him ever since, and to-day we thought we saw someone in a motor boat towing our whale away. I explained how we got on the wrong course,” and he detailed what is already known to my readers.

“Then we found the whale here,” went on Jack Kett, “and we’re going to have it.”

“Hum,” mused the captain. “It looks as if they had the right of it, boys,” he said in a low voice, to his son and the latter’s chums.

“Ask them if the whale wasn’t about dead when they harpooned it, and if it didn’t already have an iron in it?” suggested Frank.

“Another iron; eh? That’s a different story. Somebody bring a lantern,” called the captain quickly.

One was procured, and the crowd made way while the aged whaleman approached the dead beast.

“Here, you can see our iron,” said Bill Lowden eagerly. “There it is, as plain as day, with our boat’s name burned in the handle.”

“Hum, that’s right,” admitted Captain Trent, as he noted the harpoon. “But what about this?” he asked quickly, pointing to a second one, lower down, and in such a position that it could not be readily seen. “Is that yours too?” and Captain Trent held the lantern so that the gleam shone on the other implement.

“What’s that? Another harpoon?” cried Kett. “Did we use two, boys?” and he turned to the group of his men.

“No, only one,” somebody answered.

“This has a brand on it too,” went on Bob’s father. He held the lantern nearer. “The Flying Fish” he read as he saw the burned letters. “Guess that was in some time before your iron, Lowden, for it’s pretty well worn by sea water. There’s a prior claim to this whale, and as long as no one is here from the Flying Fish this prize belongs to the boys that towed it in. If you don’t agree with that jest say so, an’ we’ll go to law about it. But I know my rights, and these boys will get theirs.”

“That’s right!” cried several in the crowd.

“The whale belongs to the boys.”

Jack Kett and Bill Lowden looked at each other. This was something for which they had not bargained. There was a murmur among their men.

“We—we didn’t know the whale had been struck before,” admitted Bill.

“That’s right,” chimed in his partner. “We only want what’s fair,” he went on, in more conciliatory tone than at first.

“That’s the way to talk,” commented Captain Trent. “I admit you have some claim on the whale, for your iron helped to kill it. The law gives you a tenth part, aft............