"There she goes again," he grumbled. "You've hooked Canada."
Canada held quiescent for about three seconds. Then it started due
south.
"Suffering serpents!" shrieked Dick.
"Paddle, you sulphurated idiot!" yelled I.
It was most interesting. All I had to do was to hang on and try to stay
in the boat. Dick paddled and fumed and splashed water and got more
excited. Canada dragged us bodily backward.
Then Canada changed his mind and started in our direction. I was plenty
busy taking in slack, so I did not notice Dick. Dick was absolutely
demented. His mind automatically reacted in the direction of paddling.
He paddled, blindly, frantically. Canada came surging in, his mouth
open, his wicked eyes flaming, a tremendous indistinct body lashing
foam. Dick glanced once over his shoulder, and let out a frantic howl.
"You've got the sea-serpent!" he shrieked.
I turned to fumble for the pistol. We were headed directly for a log
stranded on shore, and about ten feet from it.
"Dick!" I yelled in warning.
He thrust his paddle out forward just in time. The stout maple bent and
cracked. The canoe hit with a bump that threw us forward. I returned to
the young cable. It came in limp and slack.
We looked at each other sadly.
"No use," sighed Dick at last. "They've never invented the words, and
we'd upset if we kicked the dog."
I had the end of the line in my hands.
"Look here!" I cried. That thick brass wire had been as cleanly bitten
through as though it had been cut with clippers.
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