“It’s about well. It wasn’t much, anyway,” responded Ned.
They were half-way across, and the rest of the distance was covered in silence, save when once Big Mike remarked again gruffly: “Perch runnin’ thick, ain’t they?” to which both boys assented.
“We’re much obliged, Mike,” spoke Ned, as they rose to step out. “Aren’t we, Tom?”
“Yes, sir-ee!” exclaimed Tom.
“Oh, ’twasn’t nothin’,” growled Big Mike, tying the boat. “I jest heared somebody yellin’, an’ thought I’d go over an’ get ’em. I seen there was a girl, and a feller with one arm done up.”
Ned whispered to Tom, and Tom nodded, and with a gesture passed a string of fish to Zu-zu.
“Here,” said Zu-zu, holding out the string to Big Mike.
“I don’t want ’em,” declared Big Mike, straightening after his task.
“But we ought to pay you for the use of the boat,” said Zu-zu. “And for coming after us, too; and we’ve got more fish than we can eat. There—you’ll have to take them,” and she dropped them in a scaly heap at his feet. Then the three of them hastened up the bank, with Bob, glad to be free from the presence of his foe, frisking ahead. Looking back, they saw Big Mike slowly lift the fish, and, shouldering his oars, start off, no doubt homeward.
“Big Mike’s not so bad, after all; is he?” asserted Zu-zu.