ELL,” said the commo dore, “this is one day

I would not go outboarding.” He stood framed in the window of Messrs. Power Craft Services’ workshop, where members of the Junior Motor Boat Club store their engines and discuss technicalities.

The rain outside beat down on the water causing thousands of little fountains, while the occupants of a passing police boat looked depressed.

“You know,” continued the commodore, “I have a feeling that the mid-day whisky will have to be discontinued. I would have sworn I saw a whale, just then.”

The rain seemed to be easing slightly, and I walked over to him and gazLd at the dreary stretch of river.

Suddenly, a large black fin reared out of the water, followed by the back of an enormous fish. A porpoise, probably.

” Phew ! ” said the commodore, and sat down on an Evenrude. I told him that I too, had seen his whale, and that he was quite all

right. We stood gazing at the river and were soon rewarded by a reappearance of the “whale.”

“Come on,” yelled the commodore, and, seizing my precious Watermota by the exhaust pipe, made off down the slipway. A few moments saw the engine in position on the speed dinghy and the steering wires clipped on.

“We’ll need these,” muttered the commodore, and placed three boat hooks in the boat.

Our porpoise had been making his way up river, so, at full throttle, we raced after him and, on reaching the spot where he should have been, cruised about waiting for him to rise. He seemed a long time about it, so we asked some lightermen if they had seen him.

They had not. Nor had they seen any pink elephants or kangaroos. They promised, however, to return him to us, should they find him. Our attention, which had begun to wander, was suddenly arrested by a voice, loud and clear. ” Lumme ! “was all it said. There, in the middle of the stream was our por

poise. We raced to the spot, of course, only to see him rise some distance away. So we raced to the spot and watched him rise some distance away. Then we raced after him and watched him rise some distance away. A little thought seemed advisable. While the boat was drifting down the stream with a silent motor, I asked the commodore how he intended to catch the thing. anyway. I still think that this is quite a reasonable question, but the commodore seemed annoyed, and replied that if I operated the boat with more intelligence and foresight, he might have a chance of spearing the thing ; and anyway it wasn’t raining any more. The discussion was on the point of getting noisy when the fin appeared ahead of us, coming in our direction. Silently we stood up ; boat hooks raised. Presently, the porpoise rose right beside us and the commodore made a mighty lunge. About one millimeter of the boat hook pierced his hide and the creature proceeded on its dignified journey.

“Home, I think,” said the commodore. And it was so.