“You ought not to complain, Tom,” lectured Zu-zu. “You might have had no boat at all.”
Then she suddenly closed her lips, and grew red, for fear lest she might have said too much.
But Ned and Tom only laughed good-naturedly.
They walked ahead for a short distance, following a path along the little bayou, until they came upon a place where the bank was rather high, and the water before it was unusually wide and deep.
“This will do, won’t it?” spoke Ned, who was in advance, halting.
“I guess so,” replied Tom, also halting.
Zu-zu said nothing; she had faith in the two boys. Bob dashed up and pausing an instant to catch the drift of things, dashed off again. When he was in the woods he was always very, very busy.
The bothersome basket, which nevertheless was soon to make itself exceedingly agreeable, was dropped at the foot of a tree; the boys fitted together the joints of their rods, and Ned baited Zu-zu’s hook for her, that she might be first to throw in. Although he was limited to one arm, he could use the fingers of both hands.
Presently Zu-zu was staring at her cork, bobbing upon the ripples.
“Oh, it’s under—it’s under!” she cried. “What shall I do?”