"Always best to have two strings to your bow, captain. If Jack can't catch any fish, then I'll shoot something; we must have either fish or fowl for supper to-night."
"Did mother say you might have it?"
Jack made a grimace, and said something about Rupert not being half as stupid as he looked; but I soon forgot all about the gun in my enjoyment of the water. Rupert and Harold rowed well together, and Kathleen steered till we came to the main stream, when Jack put out his line.
If fish can hear and understand, they certainly must have thought that there never was a noisier crew come out to look for them. We laughed till we couldn't laugh any more, and our rowers had to rest on their oars to recover strength to pull them.
"Just look!" said Jack, suddenly. "There's a tiny footmark. I should think that fellow wears nineteens."
"Hold hard a minute, and let us trace them," said Rupert, leaning over the side. "Talk of footprints in the snow, they are not half as beautiful as footprints in the mud under the river."
He guided the boat skilfully, so that we followed the steps, till they went up the bank on the side nearest Craigstown.
"The old fellow comes from there, then; I wonder where he goes, and where he comes from. It's a queer sort of place to choose for an afternoon walk. Halloa, what's that? Push off quick, Jack, or we shall stick, and on the wrong side, too."
