The boys returned to the cabin.
"How about those conditions, Whittington?" asked Budge. "Going to begin making 'em up?"
"No hurry about that," responded Percy, indifferently.
He went outside to smoke a cigarette. The bull-frogs were singing in the marsh. Inside, Roger was making a start on teaching Filippo English, and learning a little Italian in return. Throppy was tuning his violin. He played a short selection, and then the boys turned in.
"To-morrow we start fishing in dead earnest," said Jim. "Whittington and I'll get up at midnight, and Filippo'll have to give us breakfast. You other fellows won't need to turn out till four. Here's hoping for good luck all round!"
Percy made a wry face. The hour for rising did not sound good to him, but there was no harm in trying it once. After that he would see. Soon all were sound asleep, lulled by the murmur of the surf.