“Come on then, if you mean it.”
The dishes speedily were carried to the spring and as both boys worked rapidly the disagreeable duty was quickly completed.
“There! Now if you feel better we can try the fishing again,” said Walter, as he and his friend returned to the shaded place where the table had been set.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much use in trolling now,” said Dan, as he looked over the still and shining waters of the pond.
“Why not?”
“It’s too warm and still. The pickerel make for the cooler places when the sun is as warm as it is now.”
“Then we can go to those ‘cooler places’ if that is where the fish go, can’t we? A fellow ought to use his head when he’s fishing, just the same as he does when he’s playing ball.”
“It isn’t his head—it’s his oars,” explained Dan. “We simply can’t get into the places where the pickerel hide. Besides, they won’t bite much till the water is cooler.”
“I can’t understand that any more than I can about the dishes we just washed. A pickerel is always hungry, isn’t he? Well, if he is always hungry, then he’ll eat always, won’t he?”
“No.”