"A boat and a boatman who knows where there is good fishing to be found."
He considered the idea for a moment.
"I—er—believe Mr. Witherbee is using his own launch this afternoon," Mr. Morton observed. "But—well, you know, we might be able to get—"
He paused in doubt. During an instant's silence their eyes met steadily.
"Yes, I think we might," said Rosalind. "Will you see if he's anywhere in sight?"
With a bow, Morton strode in the direction of the shore.
"I am rather curious to see those two persons together," murmured Rosalind, as she watched him go upon his errand.
It was nearly an hour before he put in an appearance.
"Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting," he said. "But I had to take a boat and row about a bit to find him. It's all right, however; he's at the wharf."
"That's very lovely of you," declared Rosalind graciously. "We might bring some of the others, too, if you like. Suppose you hunt them up. I'll go down to the boat."