"They'd danged well better be good to eat," he declared, shaking the offending fish basket.
"It certainly wasn't worth all that narrow escape," Jak said soberly as he took the things from his brother and went over to pick up the little animal carcasses. But when he got there he exclaimed in disgust, "Darn, those ants have eaten them almost all up!"
"We mustn't let Mom know how close I came to not getting back," Jon said as he staggered along the little trail, although as he went his strength and limberness returned somewhat.
"I'll say not. I'll keep my trap shut. One thing's sure, though. There'll be no more fishing trips here."
"Aw, I wouldn't say that," Jon snapped back. "I know enough now to stay on the bank. And if these are good eating, it's too easy a way to get fresh food to waste."
They were just climbing into the lock when again that sudden heavy downpour of rain began.
Jon grinned as he opened the inner door. "Glad to see the rain this time. It'll keep Mom from wondering why my clothes are so wet."
As soon as they had changed to dry clothing, Jon went to clean his "fish," then took them to his mother in the galley. Jak, meanwhile, was in the control room, rearranging and trying to begin the classification of his plant specimens.
When their mother called them to table, the boys sniffed appreciatively at the delicious odor of the nicely browned fish-things.
"They cook nicely, but how do we tell if they're good to eat?" Mrs. Carver asked.