"Strange we never thought of that," said Katy.
"Strange? I'm the biggest dolt in three counties. Why, I'll catch you some be-'utiful muskallonge for dinner. Come on, Captain. Let's cut a hole while the boy is cleaning those twopenny tomtits."
"Hold on!" cried the disgusted Jim; "I'm coming too."
"No, no, my dear child" (Tug's voice was that of a pitying mother). "Remember Captain's order. You're to be a nice boy, and help in the kitchen. Maybe we'll let you cut the heads off our fishes, if you do well with the birds. Ca-a-reful!" and the tormentor dodged a club hurled by the angry lad, who wished (and said so) that he was only a little bigger.
Jim and Katy both felt it was hard indeed that he should be deprived of this particular fun, in which he took so much interest, and it seemed as though the big fellows might have waited. The cook would willingly have let her scullion depart, but an order was an order, and he had to stay, plucking savagely at the pretty feathers of the innocent buntings, and declining to come back to good-humor, until the lads returned with the report that they had cut two holes in the thin ice that formed over the "lead," which, the reader will remember, was crossed just a few rods back, and now were ready to set their lines.
Here was a chance of revenge. Jim's own line was the most important one in their small stock. He was tempted to refuse to let them use it; but he was not a bad fellow, and a better heart prevailed.
"You'll find my line and pickerel spoon in that little box of things in our chest," he said.
Tug walked up to him and offered his hand.
"Jeems, I'll accept your apology for throwing sticks of wood at your uncle, and call it square. Agreed?"