“Not as loud as some poor fish that I know of,” retorted Lee.
“Wow!” exclaimed Bobby, laughing. “That had all the earmarks of a dig, Lee.”
Fred opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, but at that moment his reel whizzed, and for the next five minutes he was too busy to say a word. The fish fought gamely, and the frail rod at times bent almost double and threatened to snap. But at last Fred landed the gleaming fish on the grass.
“Good work!” applauded Lee. “After that I take back my unkind words, Fred.”
“That’s all right,” said Fred, “nothing could make me mad now. Isn’t that fish a beauty? I’ll bet he weighs all of three pounds.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” assented Bobby. “Two or three more like that, and we can have a feast.”
But the required number failed to materialize, and after half an hour of patient angling, the boys decided to try their luck in a new location. Accordingly they moved some two or three hundred yards further upstream, and cast again. Here the fish were biting better, and in a little while even Lee had caught a fair sized fish, while Bobby and Fred each had two to their credit. Content with this haul, they decided to go back to the boat and continue their journey. They strung the fish on a bit of line, and then made their way back to where they had left the craft.
But the motor boat was nowhere to be seen!
For a moment all three were too surprised to speak. Bobby was the first to break the dazed silence.
“It looks as though we were up against it, fellows,” he said, soberly. “How do you suppose that boat got away, anyway?”