He was panting and straining like a lion. Another moment and his hand would have been in mine, but at that moment I beheld the double rows of horrid teeth close upon him. He uttered a piercing shriek, and there was an indescribably horrible _scrunch_ as he went down. In a moment after, he re-appeared, and making a last frightful effort to gain the rocks, caught my hand. I dragged him out of danger instantly, and then I found, to my unutterable joy, that the shark had only bitten off the half of his wooden leg! Embracing each other fervently, we sat down in the rocks to rest and collect our thoughts. STORY TWO, CHAPTER 7. I have often found, from experience, that the more one tries to collect one's thoughts, the more one's thoughts pertinaciously scatter themselves abroad, almost beyond the possibility of discovery. Such was the case with me, after escaping from the sea and the sharks, as related circumstantially in the last chapter. Perhaps the truth of this may best be illustrated by laying before my readers the dialogue that ensued between me and Jack on the momentous occasion referred to, as follows:-- _Jack_. "I say, Bob, where in all the world have we got to?" _Bob_. "Upon my word, I don't know." _Jack_. "It's very mysterious." _Bob_. "What's very mysterious?" _Jack_. "Where we've got to. Can't you guess?" _Bob_. "Certainly. Suppose I say Lapland?" _Jack_. (Shaking his head), "Won't do." _Bob_. "Why?" _Jack_. "'Cause there are no palm-trees in Lapland." _Bob_. "Dear me, that's true. How confused my head is! I'll tell you what it is, Jack, I can't think. _That's it_--that's the cause of the mystery that seems to beset me, I can't tell how; and then I've been ill--that's it too." _Jack_. "How can there be two causes for one effect, Bob? You're talking stuff, man. If I couldn't talk better sense than that, I'd not talk at all." _Bob_. "Then why don't you hold your tongue? I tell you what it is, Jack, we're bewitched. You said I was mad some time ago. You were right--so I am; so are you. There are too many mysteries here for any two sane men." (Here Jack murmured we weren't men, but boys.) "There's the running away and not being caught--the ship ready to sail the moment we arrive; there's your joining me after all your good advice; there's that horrible fight, and the lions, and Edwards, and the sinking of our ship, and the--the--in short, I feel that I'm mad still. I'm not recovered yet. Here, Jack, take care of me!" Instead of replying to this, Jack busied himself in fitting a piece of wood he had picked up to his wooden leg, and lashing it firmly to the old stump. When he had accomplished his task, he turned gravely to me and said-- "Bob, your faculties are wandering pretty wildly to-day, but you've not yet hit upon the cause of all our misfortunes. The true cause is that _you have disobeyed your father, and I my mother_."