“No use to argue with a girl,” said Jim.
“Not a bit,” Gerald replied. “Let’s get ’em back to camp.”
“I refuse to go!” The fire fairly flashed from Dorothy’s eyes. “I came down here to fish, and fish I shall until I get ready to stop, and you’re a bigger ‘it’ than I think you are, Molly Breckenridge, if you let two unruly boys bluff you into doing as they wish.”
“Then we’ll have to leave you here,” said Jim, in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.
Gerald nodded assent.
Then both boys assumed an independent air, and acted as if they were going to leave—as much as to say that settled the matter.
“Well, let’s be going,” said Gerald, casting a sly glance toward Dorothy, and noticing that she made no move to wind in her line. He picked up his basket and threw an inquiring glance at Jim.
“Of course, if the girls agree to keep still, it won’t be necessary for us to go,” said Jim.
“Too bad we didn’t think of that before we wound in our lines,” Gerald lamented.