“Say—we can tie the lines to the raft!” proposed Ned, struck with the idea.
“I should smile!” assented Hal, slangily.
“One above and one below,” continued Ned. “Let’s fix the upper one first.”
As they skirted the outer logs, on ahead of them turtles, sunning themselves, slid hastily into the water, and the route of the boat was thus marked by a succession of splashes.
The boys were nearing the head of the raft, when Ned stopped sculling, and asked:
“What’s the matter with this?”
“It’s about right, I guess,” replied Hal. “We can tie to that pin.”
“Well,” said Ned, “I’ll hold the boat steady, and you fix the line.”
He turned the boat in hard against a log from which jutted a stout wooden pin almost touching the water. Hal, reaching over the bow, securely tied the end of his line. Then with a shove he sent the boat away, toward the middle of the slough, and Ned gently sculled until they had gone at right angles about twenty yards, with the line trailing between the boat and the raft.
Now Hal deftly attached the first hook by its two feet of cord, baited it with a bit of liver, and let it slide overboard. Three feet farther along the line he fastened another hook; and in this manner they went edging across the slough, until the fifty hooks had been tied on and baited.